


DEAR FU*KING DIARY

by dancermk



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Consensual Underage Sex, Destiny, Dream Telepathy, Dreams, Falling In Love, Fate, Female Objectification, Fluff, Homophobic Language, Ian is 10 at the start, Internalized Homophobia, Journal writing, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of drugs, Mentions of pornography, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Sexual Discovery, Sexual thoughts, Smut, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, Teen Angst, Teen to adult, Violence, different first meeting, mentions of abuse, mentions of sexual activity with a minor (teenager), mickey likes drawing and painting, recreational drug use by minors, sexist thoughts, starts when mickey is 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24716815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancermk/pseuds/dancermk
Summary: THIS FIC IS NOW COMPLETE! 💜💕💜💕💜Mickey is twelve when he starts writing in a journal.  He's also twelve when he starts dreaming about a red-haired freckle-faced boy.  He's never met him but his dreams feel real.  It's fucking weird!This is a soulmate fic - told through Mickey's journal entries and dreams. A touch of the magical - hopeless romantics will love this one, I promise!MICKEY SAYS, "Read my fucking diary, bitches!"  (LOL)
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 434
Kudos: 458





	1. Had a weird fucking dream

**Author's Note:**

> Mickey is twelve in 2006 when he starts writing in his journal. He lives in Southside, Chicago and dreams of a freckle-faced red-haired boy who seems real. He doesn't know his name and, well, he's not real, so he doesn't know where he lives.
> 
> MICKEY’S dreams are written in third person narrative and not as journal entries, and commence from chapter 2 onwards. I recommend reading at least the first 2 chapters to get a feel for it. The final chapters do not contain diary entries or dreams but shift to third person narrative in present tense. 
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: I have DELIBERATELY written the diary entries with poor grammar!! Because I want it to sound like Mickey writing his thoughts down. Obviously I haven't gone too far with it or it might be unreadable. But just wanted to give you a 'heads up' in case you thought I forgot to edit. (Mind you I know my editing does suck at the best of times. LOL) Also, this doesn't mean I am insulting Mickey's intelligence. He is 12 in this first chapter and misses a lot of school.

**November 15 th 2006**

Had this weird fucking dream bout a dude!!!! What the fuck!? I mean it wasn’t sexual or nothing. I’m not a fag. He looked like he was bout my age, maybe younger and had bright fucking red hair and was covered in freckles. We were at a baseball field and he was smiling all goofy at me in the dugouts. He kept trying to talk to me and I told him to fuck off. Don’t know why I did that really, he seemed like a good kid. But it seemed so real. Didn’t feel anything like a dream, it felt like it was actually happening and I can remember all of it. Normally I don’t remember fucking anything bout my dreams. Nightmares – yeah remember some of those.

Sick of school - don’t learn shit. High school better be fucking better or I’m gonna drop out. I spent most of today drawing shit then got caught and sent to the office. I don’t like to show anyone what I draw but I like doing it and some of it’s fucking ok. Well that’s what I think and I don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks. Was supposed to go to detention but didn’t turn up. Gonna see if I can go on the drug run with Pops tomorrow. By Monday they might have forgotten about my detention.

**January 3 rd 2007**

Got high with Iggy today. We stole some of Pops weed so hopefully he won’t fucking notice it’s missing when he gets back. He’s been gone for three days this time. Mandy gets scared that he’s not coming back and we’re gonna run out of food. Told her not to be a pussy. Iggy and I can steal shit and we’d be better off without Pops anyway. The fucking asshole kicked me in the guts the other day cos I drank one of his beers. Anyway, I let Mandy sleep in my room. It’s not so bad I don’t mind the company I guess.

Had another dream about the red haired kid. Probably like the third or fourth one now. This time we talked and shared a smoke. He was telling me about all these brothers and sisters he had and I just listened. Sounds gay as shit but it felt peaceful, the dream made me feel peaceful. Not the fucking kid, just the dream. I tried drawing him but I’m not that good yet. I can see his face real clear in my mind but the drawing didn’t turn out so good. Gonna keep trying though. I want to ask the art teacher – Mrs Fox is her name – if she could help me. Being a Milkovich she probably won’t but Mandy says the old bat is alright so I was thinking I would take Mandy with me to ask. Anyway, I haven’t decided yet.

**June 11 th 2007**

Thank fucking Christ school is nearly finished. Iggy said we are gonna take some guns and practise shooting once school is out. Pops has been drinking so much he’s passed out on the couch half the time so we can pretty much do whatever the fuck we want. 

Been spending a lot of time drawing and I’m getting better. The books Mrs Fox leant me are helping and my drawings of Carrot Top – that’s what I’m calling the kid in my dreams – are starting to actually look like him. The freckles are fucking hard to do, they either look like measles or acne, but it sort of looks like him. Mrs Fox said to keep drawing in pencil so I understand lines and shit, but I really wanna use color so I can draw his hair how I remember it. Gonna steel some art supplies over the summer break.

Sometimes I dream of Carrot Top a lot and then sometimes I don’t for weeks. It’s like he’s trying to tell me all about his life. Says he wants to be an officer in the army. Sounds fucked up to me. Why the hell would you want to volunteer to get your ass shot up in some other fucking country? Anyway, kid’s trying to get fit and do good in school. Don’t know why I’m writing about him like he’s a real person – I sound stupid as shit – but it feels like he’s real. Fucking weird!! He also keeps asking me questions bout myself. I don’t really answer but I like the dreams. It’s like having a friend who can’t ever betray you, or judge you or look fucking down their nose at you. I mean it’s my dream so I can do or say whatever the fuck I want. Maybe I should answer some of his dumb fucking questions – it’s not like anyone is listening.

**August 9 th 2007**

Carrot Top was back in my dreams again last night. I told him I turned thirteen and he said he’s eleven. I didn’t get fucking anything for my birthday so Iggy and I got plastered and stole some shit from the Kash and Grab. Had a fucking feast. Saved a snickers bar for Mandy. 

Anyways, Freckles – that’s what I call Carrot Top now – wished me a happy birthday and said he wished he’d known so he could have got me something. He’s a dumb fucking sap. He would get the shit kicked out of him if he lived in Southside. Fuck I’d probably do it – he needs to toughen up. He said, ‘happy birthday Mick’ and squeezed my shoulder. When I woke up it felt like he had actually touched me. My shoulder was warm where he’d touched me.

I started drawing straight away cos I could still see him like he was standing in the room with me. Best fucking drawing I ever did. Used the color pencils for the hair and green for his eyes - the rest is in pencil. Don’t know anyone with eyes that color. They’re fucking beautiful. His eyes aren’t beautiful, but the colour is. I like the color. I had to try and use a few different greens together and it didn’t work so well. I think I need something other than pencils if I wanna draw in color. Gonna ask Mrs Fox what I need to get once school goes back.

**October 26 th 2007**

So fucking homicidal right now. Wanna kill that motherfucker. I could do it – I could. I should just leave. If it wasn’t for Mandy I would leave. I could live on the streets. 

Mrs Fox had given me a canvas to paint on and some paints and brushes she said she didn’t need anymore and I did a painting of him. Freckles. And it was so fucking good. Didn’t think I would be able to paint but it was good. Then Pops found it. Made fucking fun of it and told me I was a fag for painting – for doing girly shit. Asked me who my boyfriend was. Fuck I hate him! Then he got his knife out and slashed it. Fucking asshole prick was laughing while he did it. It took me six hours to paint it. I hid my art stuff under the bed. But maybe I’m just gonna throw it out. What’s the fucking point?

**October 27 th 2007**

I told Freckles bout the painting, about my prick Dad. We were in some abandoned building and it was so quiet and it was like he could tell something happened so I just told him. Told him what Terry is like. Then he put his arm around me and pulled me in against his side. Felt nice. Like a brother, you know? He said he wanted to see my drawings and I said, ‘how can I show you my drawings when this is just a dumb fucking dream.’ He just laughed – he has the dorkiest laugh but it always makes me laugh too. He’s a sweet kid. I kinda wish he was real. We could be friends or some shit.

**November 12 th 2007**

Dad’s been busted. We don’t know how long he’ll be in prison this time. Uncle Ronnie is gonna bring us food and check in on us. We have to make sure DCFS doesn’t figure out Mom isn’t here. If I have to go into foster care I’ll fucking murder someone. Mandy is crying. Iggy is out selling drugs to get the money coming in. We got guns we can sell too. Told Mandy to get her shit together she’s fucking eleven not a baby anymore. Gonna make pizza bagels for dinner and play video games with Mandy.


	2. 2008

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOME IMPORTANT NOTES....  
> ** BOLD ITALIC TEXT are Mickey's dreams!!! I think we will be privy to more and more of Mickey's dreams as the fic evolves and builds to its climax. At this stage I am not going to explain how it's all going to come together, but I will say it's all written in my head and I will be excited to share it with you.
> 
> ** Ian (and Mickey's 'relationship' with Ian) will become more prominent from Chapter four onwards once they are a bit older (by chapter four they will be 16 & 14). As we know from canon, Ian was already sexually active at 14, so we can assume he knew he was gay prior to this at 12 or 13 and I am basing this fic on that knowledge. 
> 
> ** Please excuse me if ages/school years/school holiday dates etc are not perfect - I am an Aussie and it's completely different over here. Hopefully my research has been accurate.
> 
> ** Reminder: the grammar is 'bad' in the journal entries deliberately as Mickey is writing them. Maybe they will improve if he decides to study hard in school??
> 
> ** WARNING: this chapter contains some sexist, misogynistic thoughts (Mickey's). He is 13-14 in this chapter and more or less repeating what he hears/is exposed to. :(

**December 31st 2007**

**_“Hey Freckles, you got a New Year’s resolution?”_ **

**_They are at the dugout again. They often seem to be here, and he likes it; it feels like their special place that no one knows about. He jumps up to grab onto the cage and starts doing pullups to show off._ **

**_“Yeah, I do.”_ **

**_Freckles’ smile drops and he looks sad as shit. It makes him feel something, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. He drops back down to the ground, realising showing off isn’t important anymore. Making Freckles smile again is. “So what is it then?” he asks, moving to stand in front of the boy._ **

**_“I want to see my Mom again.”_ **

**_“Where’s your Mom? She die or somethin’?” It comes out sounding harsh, he knows that, but he doesn’t mean it that way._ **

**_“Nah, she’s sick, I think. Like in the head. She takes off and we never know if she’s gonna come back or not. I miss her Mick.”_ **

**_He reaches out to Freckles and places his hand on that spot where your shoulder meets your neck. He likes the way his hand warms. He squeezes and Freckles smiles at him, so he smiles back. He loves that fucking smile. “Hey, how do you know my name?”_ **

**_“You told me, the very first time.”_ **

**_“No, I didn’t.”_ **

**_“Yes, you did. We were right here, and I was talking to you and you said, ‘fuck off - Mickey doesn’t talk to dorks, so take a hike.’”_ **

**_“Fuck, sorry man. Why haven’t you told me your name? It’s been over a year.”_ **

**_“You never asked.”_ **

**_“So…?” he says, shaking his head in frustration._ **

**_“It’s Ian.”_ **

** January 1st 2008 **

Woke up with a fucking hangover today. Iggy got me to drink so many beers last night for New Years. I didn’t wanna get that wasted but he keeps calling me a pussy and saying I need to be able to drink like a man. Pops is supposed to get out of prison in a few weeks, so I guess my News Year’s resolution ain’t worth shit.

Dreamt bout Freckles again last night, except his name is Ian. What sort of fucking dork name is that? Still I’m glad I know now, don’t know why I never thought to ask before. Since it’s my dream I guess I’m the dork for naming him Ian. He told me his Mom is sick and that she’s not around much. I wanted to tell him about Mom and that she’s not around either but for some reason I just couldn’t. But it was nice to know there’s someone else who misses their Mom too. 

Been doing a lot of drawing over the last couple of weeks. Trying out different stuff. Found this drunk guy sleeping under the L and drew him. He didn’t wake up the entire fucking time. Started to wonder if he was dead so I kicked him, and he moaned so I left him there. Then I tried drawing a sunset with this nice looking house in front of it. I used the oil pastels that Mrs Fox gave me for xmas. Still can’t fucking believe a teacher did that.

I really like Mrs Fox. Wish she was my grandma. Reckon she’d cook for me and give me shit all the time. Miss her wrinkly face when school’s out. Anyway, I love the oil pastels – makes it easy to blend colours. Did a drawing of Ian on xmas day and I was finally able to get his eye colour right with the pastels and also the way his hair looks like fire when the sun shines on it. Fuck, Iggy and Mandy are arguing bout some shit, gotta go…

** March 22nd 2008  **

Keep having wet dreams, is fucking embarrassing. My sheets are covered in jizz stains and they reek. How am I supposed to wash them without anyone seeing? Mandy does all the washing and I don’t want my little sister, you know, looking at that. And when I’m not shooting my load while I’m asleep I’m trying not to have a fucking boner all day. Want to grab my dick all the time, so fucking horny. Iggy is always talking about tits and pussy and I guess I got to get me some of that soon. Iggy was fourteen when he first fucked a girl. Soon I’m gonna be fourteen. Apparently, it feels good in their pussy - all tight and wet and shit. I don’t think about girls when I jerk it, I just like the feel of my hand around my dick. When you cum it feels so good, like you want it to last forever. I tried looking at photos of naked girls to see if it felt better but it didn’t. Is that fucking weird? 

**April 8 th 2008 **

I asked Mandy if she ever dreamed of the same person and she told me she dreams about our Mom sometimes. Wasn’t what I meant, but it made me feel sorry for her – stupid bitch doesn’t seem to realise Mom ain’t coming back. Anyways, told her she was a dumbfuck and that I meant someone you’d never met before. What did she say? She said, ‘of course not fuckface.’ She is such a bitch sometimes. 

Am I a freak dreaming about Ian all the time? When it first started I didn’t really think much about it – I was only fucking twelve – didn’t know shit. But now I want it to happen all the time - he’s like a friend. On the days I dream about him I wake up feeling good. I tell him about everything. Well almost everything. School, art stuff, family shit. And he tells me about his brothers and sisters and how they never have any money and how he wants to go to West Point and be an officer in the army. He makes me laugh. He’s a sweet kid. Not like anyone around here.

Every dream seems to get more and more real – I wake up feeling like it actually happened. Am I fucking losing my mind? Do I need to be put in a psych ward? 

Ian keeps changing. I mean he’s growing, like aging. His freckles are already lighter than when I first dreamt of him and he’s so much taller now. I haven’t told anyone about him – not even Mandy.

** June 6th 2008 **

I was in the art room at lunchtime today and Mrs Fox asked if she could talk to me bout something important. At first I thought I was in fucking trouble and she had realised I stole another paint brush. I needed a fan brush for this painting I’m working on and I didn’t have one at home. Maybe I’ll take it back once I’ve finished, feel like a fucking asshole stealing from Mrs Fox. Guess it’s not Mrs Fox’s shit anyway so it’s more like stealing from the school.

Anyway, she told me she reckons I’m talented enough to get an art scholarship to college if I keep working hard. I mean what the fuck? She doesn’t seem like the sort of person to lie bout something like that. What if I can get out of this shithole and away from Terry? Never thought I’d be good at anything, you know?

Then she told me I need to work hard in high school so I can get a good enough GPA to get a scholarship. I told her I don’t know if I can, my grades aren’t good. I miss a lot of school plus I fucking hate it, it’s so boring. Pops wants me to go on more runs with him and Iggy once I start High School. I mean let’s face it – probably gonna end up in juvie then in and out of prison like the old man. 

****

** June 7th 2008 **

**_He’s standing in the dugout, alone, and he wonders where Ian is. Then he spots him walking across the field with a backpack._ **

**_“Hey Mick, come out here, I got some beer.”_ **

**_“Why the fuck you drinking beer? Aren’t you only twelve?”_ **

**_He heads out to meet him on the field. It’s night , but he has no idea what time it is. The sky is clear, and he can see the stars, and it’s warm but not too hot._ **

**_“Bet you’ve been drinking beer since you were twelve.”_ **

**_“Yeah but you’re a boy scout, you want to join the army and do good in school and shit.”_ **

**_When he reaches Ian, he wants to pat him on the back, or do some cool handshake, but he doesn’t, so it’s awkward as fuck. He just stands there and watches Ian take a blanket out of his backpack and place it on the ground in the middle of the field._ **

**_“What the fuck, Ian? We gonna lay on that and look for shooting stars? Fucking gay!”_ **

**_Ian sits down on the blanket and pulls out two beers. “What’s fucking wrong with being gay, Mickey?”_ **

**_“What do ya mean what’s wrong with being gay? What’s right with it? Don’t go saying that shit in the army, you’ll get your ass handed to you.”_ **

**_He gives in and sits down. Ian passes him the other beer, and he opens it, chugging it down fast. They are quiet for a while. “So your Mom come back yet?”_ **

**_“Nah, Fiona is looking after all of us. Frank is getting fucking worse - off his face all the time. What about your Mom? You never talk about her.”_ **

**_“Don’t know where she is. She ran off when I was about seven or eight.”_ **

**_“You miss her?”_ **

**_“Yeah sometimes. Wish Terry had run off instead of Mom.”_ **

**_He lights up a smoke and takes a few puffs before handing it to Ian, then he lies down on the blanket and looks up at the sky. Ian lies down next to him, then hands the smoke back. He wants to tell Ian about what Mrs Fox said. He wants to share it with someone cos he feels kinda proud of himself._ **

**_“You know how I draw and paint and shit?”_ **

**_“Yeah, I want to see it Mick. Bring a drawing next time.”_ **

**_“Don’t know how to bring one Ian. Never know when I’m gonna see you. Anyway, my art teacher told me I might be good enough to get a scholarship to college. Just gotta get a good enough GPA and keep working on my art.”_ **

**_“That’s fucking awesome Mick. What do you draw?”_ **

**_“What do ya mean?”_ **

**_“Like people or trees or fucking fruit.”_ **

**_“I like drawing people mostly.”_ **

**_“You ever draw me?”_ **

**_He feels his cheeks burn with embarrassment, but he doesn’t know why. Who gives a fuck if he draws Ian? He draws lots of shit. Right? He can feel Ian looking at him. He chances a glance, his eyes connecting with Ian’s instantly. “A lot.”_ **

** June 11th 2008 **

It was the last day of school today. Just graduation and awards tomorrow. I’m gonna go even though it’s gay as fuck. Mrs. Fox said I better be there and I don’t want to disappoint her. After school I went and packed up my stuff and I gave her a drawing I had been working on - it was of her teaching. She almost cried. I didn’t know what to say. She seemed to fucking love it. 

But that wasn’t even the good part!!!!! She gave me a canvas. And it’s fucking huge. I looked like a fucking freak carrying it all the way home. I hid it under my bed so Pops or Iggy don’t find it. Mandy asked if I can paint her. I didn’t promise her anything cos I was thinking of painting Ian. He’s twelve now – same age as Mandy – and he’s changed a lot in the last six months, doesn’t look so much like a kid anymore. Don’t even know how I’m gonna paint on it and not get caught. It will have to dry before I can shove it back under the bed.

Mrs Fox also rang the art teacher at the high school and told him about me and to look out for me. Mrs Fox said Mr Mitchell was a painter and he would be able to teach me more stuff. Hope he’s not a fucking douche. I’m gonna miss Mrs Fox - she was the best teacher I ever had. The _only_ good teacher I ever had. She said I can come back and see her and she’ll help with anything – like school work or art stuff or whatever. 

** June 12th 2008 **

Not fucking drawing or painting anymore. It was so fucked! I just got home from the graduation and the awards. I won the arts award – got called up on stage and got this certificate, trophy and some art stuff. 

Shit! Mandy’s banging on my door right now and yelling at me to stop being a pussy. But that’s the fucking problem, isn’t it? Doing art is for fucking cock suckers. 

This fuckface Kobe Randle, who’s on the football team and thinks he’s top shit called me a fucking faggot – a queer who loves art and paints like a girl. I fucking took that motherfucker out! You should have seen his face when I finished with him. Broke his nose for sure, split his lip open, black eye. Maybe even cracked a rib. I fucking saw red, can’t even remember how many times I punched him and kicked him. All I got is a black eye – that was the one and only punch he got in. So who’s the fucking faggot now? He’s the pussy. Weak as shit turd face.

Fuck! Mandy is gonna break the door down. Back later….

Pops is fucking proud of me –I told him I beat the shit out of that pussy Kobe. He asked me to sit down and have a beer with him to celebrate. I feel fucking good man. Pops said I’m ready to do more for the family business, that I’m proving I got what it takes. My eye hurts like a motherfucker but I like it. Looks fucking badass.

Threw that fucking art shit, trophy and certificate in the bin. Gonna be in high school in a couple of months so not doing that shit anymore. I only kept a couple of drawings and paintings of Ian under my bed. Just because, you know, it’s Ian and it didn’t feel right to throw them all out.

** August 26th 2008 **

Summer break has been dragging on but I’m not gonna complain cos I don’t want to start school. It’s too fucking hot and Pops has got me and Iggy filing serial numbers off guns and selling weed to the local fuckwits. Sometimes me and Iggs steal some and smoke it ourselves.

We got fucking high on my fourteenth birthday and we watched porn. Iggy was rubbing his junk while he was watching, fucking nearly blew his load in front of me, man. He said I should go ask Angie Zargo if she wants to fuck cos she fucks everyone. Don’t know if I want to put my dick where Iggy’s already put his. That’s fucking gross isn’t it?!

The porn was hot, I guess. I got half hard watching it. The dude’s dick was fucking huge and the girl was giving him a BJ and he was fucking into her mouth. Then he stuck it in her pussy. Pussy’s are fucking weird looking if you ask me. She had all these like folds and it looked slimy and then her tits were bouncing and jiggling all over the place. I just watched the dude – you know, so I’d know what to do. He was a good-looking dude with abs and muscles and shit. I can see why girls go for that. Then at the end, he pulled out and came all over her. I felt weird watching him cum. Made me feel hot and sweaty. Maybe it was the weed? I was so fucking high.

****

** September 5th 2008 **

High School sucks balls! They already gave us homework -as if I’m doing fucking homework – that’s for faggots and nerds. The only good thing about high school is Mr Mitchell. Mrs Fox was right, his painting is so fucking good. After the first art lesson he asked me to stay and discuss what I wanted to do with my art. I didn’t tell him I hadn’t picked up a brush or pencil in over two months. I realised I overreacted to the Kobe Randle BS and I do wanna be able to paint like Mr Mitchell. He showed me some of his paintings – people and what do they call them? Landscapes. And this other stuff he called abstract. I don’t really know what that means but his abstract painting was incredible.

Plus he’s a fucking badass – too cool to be a teacher! Probably about 28 years old and wears torn jeans and a leather jacket. He’s got tatts and some piercings too. Looks like he could be a model or an actor or something cos he’s tall and got black hair and the darkest brown eyes I ever seen. 

He looked at the drawing I did in class for a long time and I was stressing he didn’t like it but then he said I had raw potential – whatever the fuck that means – and that Mrs Fox was right. Starting from next week, every Monday after school he’s going to work with me to learn different painting techniques. Except he said he won’t do it if I don’t keep up a ‘C’ average. Jesus fucking Christ don’t know how I’m gonna do that, but I really want to. When I came home I pulled out the big blank canvas from under the bed. Think I still want to paint Ian on it.

**_ November 9th 2008 _ **

**_He's walking down the alleyway with Ian and he’s not sure where they’ve been or where they’re going. The sun is setting, and he’s getting cold, so he pushes Ian and takes off down the alley. Ian is chasing after him but can’t keep up because he’s a few inches shorter. Still, Ian’s fast and he doesn’t give up easily._ **

**_They finally stop, puffing and panting, hands on their knees as they try to recover. He feels good, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he laughs._ **

**_“What’s so fucking funny, Mickey?”_ **

**_“You! Trying to keep up. Better train harder, Army.”_ **

**_“Fuck you, Mickey. In another couple of years you won’t be able to keep up with my ass.”_ **

**_“Fuck off!”_ **

**_They sit down, backs against a wall, and he takes out a smoke and lights it. He takes a couple of drags, then passes it to Ian’s waiting hand. They are so in sync now._ **

**_“You know how I told you about Mr Mitchell, my art teacher?”_ **

**_“Yeah, you still getting extra art lessons from him? You said he’s a badass motherfucker.”_ **

**_“Yeah, I am. And he is. But I saw him out of school the other day. He was across the road with someone.”_ **

**_He stops talking and takes the smoke back, inhaling deeply, nervous about what he is going to say._ **

**_Ian nudges him by bumping their legs together. “And…”_ **

**_“And I think he’s a fucking faggot.”_ **

**_Ian turns to look at him with a frown on his face. “What the fuck is your problem with faggots Mick? So what if he’s gay? If he’s a good teacher then who gives a shit? He’s helping you, man. You can go to college if you get a scholarship.”_ **

**_For a moment he doesn’t know what to say. Ian is right; Mr Mitchell is helping him and he’s been really nice. He feels all twisted inside. Ever since he met Mr Mitchell, he’s wanted to be just like him—a badass painter. But he doesn’t want to be a faggot. He thought faggots were all pussy’s and fairies and limp wrists. They take it up the ass. They bend over and get fucked by another man. Now he can’t stop thinking about it. He started imagining Mr. Mitchell getting fucked and also doing the fucking. Then he imagined himself fucking Mr. Mitchell and getting fucked by him. But he’s not gonna tell Ian that. Fuck no._ **

**_He finally turns to look at Ian. “Yeah I guess as long as he keeps his faggoty ass to himself it’s ok.”_ **

**_“Jesus Mick.”_ **

**_Ian seems really fucking mad, and he gets up and walks off down the alley. He doesn’t follow._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE SUBSCRIBE / LEAVE KUDOS /COMMENT (love love love to hear your thoughts)
> 
> I appreciate all the support I received for chapter one and I hope you have enjoyed chapter 2! Things will really start to move over the next 2 chapters so I hope you stay for the ride! 
> 
> Take care - there is no end in sight with this pandemic and I hope all is well wherever you are in the world!!  
> I'm on twitter @dancelovermk would love followers/to follow you  
> Rachael x


	3. 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Select diary entries and dreams from 2009...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOLD ITALICS - ARE MICKEY'S DREAMS!
> 
> In this chapter Mickey will start referring to his art teacher - Mr Mitchell - as Mr. M because he can't be bothered writing the whole name out every time AND he started calling him Mr. M at school.
> 
> Ian turns 13, and Mickey turns 15 in this chapter.

**_ January 19th 2009 _ **

**_Mickey is walking under the L when he spots Ian coming towards him with a huge fucking smile on his face. He can’t help himself; he smiles back and increases his pace. He hasn’t seen Ian in weeks and on top of the wave of happiness that rushes through him; he is also aware of the heavy dose of relief that accompanies it._ **

**_“Hey Mick,” Ian calls out as they get closer._ **

**_They clasp hands and step in to bump shoulders. “Hey man, what’s got you so fuckin’ happy?”_ **

**_“My Mom. She came home Mick.”_ **

**_Ian looks down, embarrassed at his own enthusiasm, or maybe expecting Mickey to make fun of him. He reaches out and taps Ian on the back. “That’s great. I’m fuckin’ happy for you.” And the truth is, he is happy for Ian. And happy to see his dorky freckled face after weeks without him._ **

**_They move under the train line and settle down on the ground, facing each other. He realises he has his backpack with him, his school one, and sets it down beside him._ **

**_He takes a good look at Ian. “Where you been, man? Haven’t seen you for weeks. Missed ya.”_ **

**_He thinks Ian blushes, and he isn’t sure what that means or how that makes him feel. He feels the heat rise in his cheeks too._ **

**_“Never thought you’d miss me Mick. I missed you too. There was a lot going on at home with Mom coming back. Fiona wasn’t happy and there were a lot of arguments. But my Dad is different when Mom is around. He’s like high as a fucking kite even when he’s not high. He’s happy and nice, you know? When they fuck, you should hear them! Once I came home and they were fucking on the kitchen floor and they didn’t even stop.”_ **

**_He laughed at Ian laughing. “Fuck, if I saw my Dad fucking my Mom I’d be scarred for life. Don’t want to see that shit! Ever!”_ **

**_“Don’t think anyone wants to see their parents fucking, Mick. Hey, don’t suppose you got a drawing in your backpack?”_ **

**_A smile spreads across his face as he grabs his bag and unzips it. Rummaging through all the shit in there, he finally pulls out his sketchbook._ **

**_“Bout time Mickey. Was starting to think you were making shit up.”_ **

**_“Fuck off Freckles,” he says as he shoves Ian in the shoulder. “You want to look or not?”_ **

**_Ian snatches it out of his hand. “Of course I want to look, dumbass.”_ **

**_If anyone else called him a dumbass or teased him the way Ian did, he’d have their head on a fucking platter. He lets Ian get away with so much shit. Fuck, he likes it when Ian teases him. He’s sure this is how it’s supposed to be between brothers. Close like this. There’s trust, loyalty, and it’s so easy._ **

**_He watches as Ian lays the book down on the ground and opens it to the first page. It’s a drawing from art class, where they had to draw hands. Yeah, just fucking hands. Somewhere else in there is ‘just feet.’ But he doesn’t question Mr. Mitchell’s lessons anymore because he’s getting so much better at his art._ **

**_Ian turns to the next page, and it’s one of Ian at the dugouts. Ian looks up at him, eyes wide, then back at the drawing. Mickey can see Ian’s chewing on his bottom lip as he studies the drawing. He feels nervous, his heart quickens, and his hands sweat as he waits for Ian to say something. Anything. He didn’t know how much Ian’s approval meant until this moment. No one sees his art; only Mr. Mitchell and Mandy sometimes._ **

**_“Mick, it’s amazing.” Ian looks up at him and he realises that it’s awe on Ian’s face. Or maybe admiration. As long as it’s not shock—like he didn’t expect Mickey could do anything good. He swallows hard and waits._ **

**_Ian turns over a few more pages, seeing a landscape, and flowers, and then another one of himself. “Mickey, I knew you would be good, but this is fucking phenomenal. Shit Mick, you’re going to be a famous artist one day.”_ **

**_He bites down on his bottom lip to stop himself from bursting out into an embarrassingly large smile. All sorts of feelings are flooding through his veins. Pride, happiness, acceptance, hope. He feels like he’s worth something for once. He has value, maybe?_ **

**_“Thanks man. I’m getting better now. Learning about different techniques and Mr Mitchell says my ‘eye’ is getting better. Like I can really see shit now, you know, the details in things.” He thinks he sounds like a crazy fuck, but Ian just smiles that big dorky smile and he allows himself to smile back._ **

**_Ian continues looking through the entire book—which is nearly full—and he becomes aware that a lot of the drawings are of him. An embarrassing number of them. Mickey shifts uncomfortably, trying to gauge Ian’s reaction. When Ian reaches the end, he looks up at him through those red lashes, chin still down, “You’ve drawn me lots of times.”_ **

**_“Well don’t go thinking you’re special or nothing. You just got a good face to draw with the freckles and puppy dog eyes and shit. You’re sort of alien looking.” Mickey knows he shouldn’t have said that. He’s not good with words and he kind of panicked._ **

**_Ian puffs out a laugh and nods his head up and down. “Thanks for showing me Mick. You really are good. Maybe one day you can draw one for me to keep?”_ **

**_“You want one?”_ **

**_“Yeah of course, they are so fucking good.”_ **

**_“Well pick one. Anyone you want.”_ **

**_Ian is smiling as he looks through the drawings again and Mickey relaxes knowing that Ian isn’t upset about what he said. Ian picks a colour drawing that was done in pastels. It’s one of Mickey’s favourites where the hair and eye colour are perfect. He only did it a few months ago and while he is happy to give it to Ian, he will also be sad to see it go._ **

**_“Can I have this one, Mick? It’s my favourite.”_ **

**_“You’ve got good taste, it’s my favourite too.” Mickey takes the sketch book and carefully pulls out the page and hands it to Ian._ **

**_“Aren’t you gonna sign it? That way if you become famous, I can prove I have one of your drawings. It might be worth thousands one day.”_ **

**_Fuck, this kid is something. He pulls a pen out of his backpack and takes the drawing back—signing Mickey M in the fanciest writing he can. Ian takes it from him and places it into his own backpack; between two books so as not to scrunch it._ **

**_“Thanks Mickey. Maybe one day I can show you some army drills.”_ **

**_“If it involves firing a gun, I’m in.”_ **

**_Mickey pulls out a smoke and lights it, puffing once before handing it to Ian._ **

****

** January 20th 2009 **

Ok something crazy, I mean FUCKING crazy is happening!!! I hadn’t dreamt about Ian for weeks but last night I did and in the dream I showed him my sketch book and I gave him one of my drawings. The pastel one with the best colours I’ve ever done. When I woke up and got my sketchbook out of my backpack it was fucking gone. FUCKING GONE!!!! So who the fuck took the drawing? Is Mandy or Iggy somehow fucking with me? Am I talking in my sleep about Ian and they stole it to fuck with my head? Cos what is the other explanation? Fuck this, I’m going to ask…

They both fucking claim they didn’t take it. Iggy said he didn’t even know I drew shit. Mandy said I was a fucking freak and asked who the hell Ian is. Gonna lock my door from now on. 

** February 11th 2009 **

Today after school Mr Mitchell said I could stay and work on my painting. He was doing some teacher shit at his desk and I was in the corner by the window when his fucking boyfriend came in. The same dude I saw him with that day down at the mall. This guy just walks in, says hey babe and kisses Mr Mitchell on the mouth. The dumbass didn’t even know I was in the room – I mean I was sort of behind the canvas - but I couldn’t fucking believe they just kissed like that. Anyone could have seen them. It made me feel fucking weird seeing two guys kiss. Never actually seen that shit in real life before. Didn’t want to look but I did. Pretty sure Mr. Mitchell slipped him the tongue.

His boyfriend is fucking girly and shit. Had on jeans that looked like they were painted on – must have been cutting his balls off - plus a super tight t-shirt and all these rings on his fingers and this gay ass pink scarf around his neck. They seemed happy. They don’t seem to be ashamed or nothing. Like they don’t give a shit that it’s not normal. I mean fucking dudes isn’t normal. Unless you’re making someone your bitch in prison – that’s the only exception – you never fucking have feelings for another dude. 

** March 18th 2009 **

It was fucking embarrassing today at school. I went in early to put away my painting because it still hadn’t dried by the time I had to leave yesterday, and Mr. Mitchell’s boyfriend was there again! The door was closed but I could see them through the glass, you know, kissing and hugging each other. I was going to leave and come back but then Mr. M saw me and came and opened the door, saying I could come in. 

The boyfriend said, ‘so this is the famous Mickey you’ve been talking about.’ What the fuck? Mr. M has been talking about me. To his boyfriend! Mr. M said, ‘yes he’s the most talented student I’ve ever had.’ Not gonna lie that felt good, hearing him say that.

After the boyfriend left Mr. M asked me if I was ok and if I wanted to talk about anything. You know, we talk a lot and I’ve told him some stuff about me but it was fucking obvious he was talking about him being gay. I didn’t answer, cos what the fuck would I say? Then he just blurts it out – ‘you ok with me being gay? Do you want to talk about it?’ I just said ‘nah it’s cool man’ hoping that would be the end of it. But no – he comes over and places a hand on my shoulder and says ‘being gay doesn’t define who someone is Mickey. It's just a part of them. You know you can talk to me about anything ok?’ Fuck, he was looking at me like he could see into my soul or some shit. Then I said, ‘my Pops would fuckin’ kill me if I was gay’ and left. I’m sure that ain’t gonna be the last I hear of that conversation. Shouldn’t have opened my fucking mouth!

** April 2nd 2009 **

Hate fucking Terry so much. Motherfucker kicked the shit out of me cos I wasn’t filing serial numbers off the latest batch of guns. I was studying instead. I have a black eye and my lip is split. Every time I try to eat it starts bleeding again. Think I may have a cracked rib too – hurts to fucking breathe and it’s all purple and shit. I was studying cos I think I’m gonna fail Spanish and then Mr Mitchell won’t help me after school anymore with my painting. Fuck, I don’t know how I’m gonna get a good enough GPA to get a scholarship. 

Fuck fuck fuck. I just want to give up. What’s the point? Pops said I gotta go with him and Iggy tomorrow on a drug run. I can’t miss more school – I’ll get further behind. Sometimes I think about how I could kill him. If I could get away with it maybe I would do it. Like rat poison or cut the breaks on his car. 

He keeps calling me a pussy and a faggot. Says only pussy’s and faggots study at school and that he doesn’t want a fairy for a son. Mr M’s not weak or a pussy and he’s a faggot. Is it really that bad to be a faggot? Fuck I guess it is. I don’t even know what to think anymore. Pops would beat the shit out of Mr. Mitchell if he could. But he’s a good dude. If he keeps that gay shit to himself then who cares where he sticks his dick, right? He’s not hurting anyone. 

** May 10th 2009 **

**_He finds Ian in the dugout, legs tucked into his chest and head on his knees. The kid’s been so happy since his Mom came home but sure as shit something has gone wrong. Mickey isn’t sure how to handle it—he’s not great at comforting people. No one’s ever comforted him, so he’s not real sure how to do it._ **

**_“Ian, you ok man?” he asks as he tentatively reaches out and lays a hand on Ian’s shoulder._ **

**_Ian looks up at him and his eyes are red from crying. He wipes his nose on his sleeve and drops his legs down so he’s sitting normally on the bench. “Yeah Mick. I’ll be ok”_ **

**_Mickey sits down next to him and lights a smoke, passing it to Ian first. They smoke in silence for a while before he speaks again, “You wanna talk about it or somethin’?”_ **

**_“I’m sure you aren’t interested in my family bullshit Mick.”_ **

**_“Can’t be any worse than my family bullshit. Try me.” He turns his body towards Ian and puts one foot up on the bench._ **

**_“It was my 13 th birthday yesterday.”_ **

**_“Oh, shit man I forgot. Happy birthday Army. You’re a fuckin’ teenager now—can get up to all sorts of shit.” He shoves playfully at Ian, trying to make him laugh._ **

**_“Fuck off Mick,” Ian says, finally giving in and laughing._ **

**_“So it was your birthday, what the fuck went wrong?”_ **

**_“Mom said she was taking us out on a picnic for my birthday—me, Debbie and Carl. So she goes crazy all night making cakes and sandwiches and stuff and then she drove us fucking miles. She was talking non-stop about crazy shit. She seemed so happy and excited. Finally, we stopped in the middle of nowhere and we got out and started laying out the blanket and the food.”_ **

**_Ian stops talking and his eyes get watery. Mickey wonders what the fuck he’s going to do if Ian cries. He places a hand on the back of Ian’s neck and squeezes. “What happened?” he prompts._ **

**_Ian takes this huge deep breath in and out, then continues, “Then she said she was going back to the car to get the drinks. After about ten minutes she still hadn’t come back. So I told Debbie and Carl to start eating and I went back to where she parked the car and she was gone. Fucking gone Mick. Just left us there and Debbie’s only seven and Carl’s six.”_ **

**_“Fuck man, what did you do?”_ **

**_“I got them to eat what they wanted and then we hitched back. Debbie was crying cos she was so scared. And I was fucking scared. We could have been picked up by some pedo or a fucking axe murderer. It took us five hours to get back, three different rides. The last one was this nice old lady who dropped us at our door.”_ **

**_“Jesus Christ Ian. Where was she? Your Mom?”_ **

**_“Don’t know, she still hasn’t come home. And she’s fucking pregnant again.” Ian stands up and his mood changes; anger pouring off him. “The fucking bitch can’t even look after the five she’s got and now she’s gonna have another one. What the fuck Mick? Fi’s gonna end up raising another kid. It’s not fucking fair Mick. It was my birthday.”_ **

**_Ian’s anger takes a sharp turn straight into sorrow and he starts to sob. Mickey doesn’t know what to do with all Ian’s fucking feelings. Milkovich’s don’t show feelings. No that’s not true; they show anger, frustration and impatience. They don’t show love, compassion or vulnerability. Those things are for pussies. Those things make you a target. Those things will get you killed._ **

**_Mickey stands up but continues to watch as Ian cries into his hands. He wants to lash out and tell him to ‘man up’ and ‘stop crying like a fucking girl.’ There’s a deep conflict within him as he considers the alternative. Before he even knows what he’s doing, he takes the two steps to Ian and pulls him into a hug. He’s breathing hard as he continues to battle his own thoughts and feelings. This is so fucking gay, he thinks. But Ian needs him, he counters. Then he feels Ian’s arms wrap around him. Ian is almost as tall as him now. He knows Ian will be taller than him one day and he wonders what it might feel like to hug him then._ **

**_They stay like that for a few minutes, while Ian stops crying. Mickey feels hot, Ian’s body heat spreading through him the longer they stay connected. His own breathing has calmed, and he realises it feels nice to hug Ian. He likes the feel of Ian’s hands on his back. He likes the feeling of looking after Ian, protecting him from the fucked-up world he lives in. Cos he knows Ian’s world is as fucked up as his own. He gets it. He gets Ian._ **

**_When Ian stops crying, he pulls away and Mickey is surprised at how disappointed he feels that it’s over._ **

**_“Thanks Mick,” Ian almost whispers as he wipes at his face with his sleeve._ **

**_They sit back down on the bench and he lights up another smoke. Once he’s taken a few puffs he hands it over to Ian and without thinking about whether he should or shouldn’t, he speaks, “You remember about a month ago when I had a black eye and a split lip and I told you I got into a fight at school?”_ **

**_“Yeah.” Ian turns and looks him straight in the eye. He looks right back at him for a few seconds before averting his gaze._ **

**_“Well I didn’t get into a fight at school. My Pops—Terry—beat the fucking shit out of me.”_ **

**_Ian says nothing, and that throws him. “Aren’t you gonna say somethin’?” he asks, annoyed as fuck._ **

**_“I already figured out it was your Dad. You’ve told me enough over the last couple of years to put two and two together Mick.”_ **

**_“So why didn’t you fuckin’ say anything?”_ **

**_“Knew you’d tell me when you were ready. Why does he hate you so much?”_ **

**_He huffs out a laugh at that. Good fucking question. “He hates fuckin’ everyone. He thinks I’m a pussy. Beats on me to toughen me up, I guess. He doesn’t want no faggot for a son.”_ **

**_“Why’d he beat you up this time?”_ **

**_“I was trying to study instead of filing serial numbers off guns. I have to keep up my ‘C’ average for Mr Mitchell to help me with my artwork. Plus…you know… I wanna get out. I wanna go to college. Don’t know why I bother though…fucked for life, right?”_ **

**_Ian slides an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in, the sides of their bodies pressed against each other. “Nah Mick. Don’t have to be. You have a fucking talent. Use it and get out. You’re gonna be a famous artist and I’m gonna be an officer in the army.”_ **

**_He smiles. Ian is still so fucking innocent it breaks his heart a little. He doesn’t want the world to chew Ian up and spit him out._ **

**_“You think so?” he asks, throwing his arm around Ian’s shoulders._ **

**_“Yeah man,” Ian says, that dorky grin spreading across his face._ **

** June 22nd 2009 **

I fucking passed Spanish man! I did it. That last minute study session with Mr. M was what made the difference. Who would have thought Mr. M was good at Spanish? So glad I told him otherwise I’d be completely fucked right now. Mr. M said he can keep helping me as long as I need but to give him a better heads up next time. He also packed up some art supplies for me to take home for summer break and gave me a large sketch pad. He wants me to work on a project over summer – to pick one person and draw them experiencing different emotions. Should I do Ian or Mandy? I think I better do Mandy cos otherwise Mr. M will be asking more questions about Ian that I can’t answer.

** August 10th 2009 **

It’s my 15th birthday today and after months of bullshit from Iggy and all my fucking cousins I got Angela Bradley to blow me at a party tonight. I told them that I fucked her so they would get off my back. I don’t even know where to start. I don’t know what I fucking expected. I mean I guess I could have fucked her, she wanted me to. She kept trying to kiss me and I just didn’t fucking want to. Then she grabbed my hand and stuck it in her pants and I guess I freaked. I told her to get on her knees and suck me off. She just dropped to her knees and pulled my dick out – which was still soft. I felt so fucking humiliated. I should have been hard, shouldn’t I? She started jerking me and it took so long to get hard, then she started sucking and it was going on for so long cos it just felt all wrong. I tried imagining it was just me doing it with my hand and like zoned out and I got close. But she kept pulling off and asking me if I liked it. I knew she would tell everyone if I didn’t cum and fuck…

^^^

Ok I feel better now, I just smoked a joint, I’m fucking ok. I was just probably nervous as fuck and that’s why it was hard to get it up. You know like performance anxiety or some shit. That happens to dudes, doesn’t mean I’m fucking gay. Fuck what if I’m gay? Jesus fucking Christ think I’m gonna throw up.

The only way I got myself to cum was to think of someone else blowing me. Her giant tits were hanging out and the way they were wobbling was fucking gross. I couldn’t look. I told her to shut the fuck up so I didn’t have to hear her moans then I, shit this is hard to admit – I imagined Mr. M blowing me. Came so fucking quick then.

I want to tell Ian and I don’t want to tell him at the same time. I don’t need to hide from Ian, do I? Ian’s not real. Ian can’t tell anyone. Ian can’t hurt me. Fuck I don’t know what to do.

** September 24th 2009 **

Everyone was out of the house today and I finally did it, I watched gay porn. I made sure I deleted the search history – that would be a stupid ass way to get myself killed – your Pops finds your gay porn searches. I ended up cumming on myself like four times. I don’t think I’m a faggot, I think I might just like sex with dudes more than girls. Men have better bodies – their abs and their cocks – hard in all the right places. It makes sense, a guy jerking you off is gonna know what you like more than a girl can. And you can be rough with a dude. I really liked it when they fucked each other hard. At first I thought it must hurt like a motherfucker to take a dick up the ass, but they all seemed to be loving it. It made me wanna know what that feels like. I touched my hole the last time I came, but I chickened out on putting my finger in. Guess I need some lube. Fuck, no one can know about this. Now I know exactly what Mr. M does to his boyfriend. When I see him on Monday I’m gonna have trouble not imagining him pounding into ~~my~~ his boyfriend’s ass. 

**November 8 th 2009**

Had the house to myself again – better than fucking Christmas! I stole Iggy’s lube and I tried it. At first it felt weird as fuck!!!! And it stung, like a burn. Then after a while it started to feel better once I relaxed. So I put some porn on and more lube and put two fingers in. The angle is difficult – to jerk yourself and finger yourself at the same time. Then I found THAT spot. Holy fucking Jesus. I kept rubbing at it and I came so hard. It was different than every other time – like more intense and sort of spread through my whole body. Now I know why dudes like taking it up the ass. I think I want a guy to fuck me – I want to feel what that’s like. But none of that gay shit. Just fucking sex. It’s just like guys having sex in prison, it’s a good way to get off. It’s not like I’m gonna fall in love with a guy. Fuck that shit.

**December 17 th 2009**

**_The abandoned building had been so fucking cold, so they had spent a lot of time searching for stuff they could burn and make a fire with. Now they are sitting around it, hands reaching out towards the flames as they warm up. They are pretty fucking pleased with themselves._ **

**_Ian is slightly taller than him now and his entire face had changed—all signs of childhood gone—he is now a gangly, awkward teenager play acting at being an adult. Well, they both are. Mickey just has two extra years practise under his belt._ **

**_“I like taking care of Liam. He’s cute. Did I tell you he’s black?”_ **

**_Ian is talking about his new little brother, who was born two weeks ago. His mother has been home—again—for over a month so far. Mickey knows how it will end and so does Ian, but it doesn’t seem to stop Ian from wanting it to be different this time. Mickey feels sorry for Ian, knowing that he still must face the hard realities of life. Maybe this is the last remaining part of childhood? If that’s the case, maybe Mickey grew up years ago._ **

**_He pulls his hands away from the fire. “How the fuck is he black? So your Dad isn’t the Dad?”_ **

**_“She says he is, but I guess not?” Ian says, shrugging his shoulders. “Hey, you seen the third ‘Universal Soldier’ movie yet?”_ **

**_“Vam Damme? You serious? Van Damme sucks ass. Seagal is the only badass motherfucker worth watching.”_ **

**_“Mick, you can’t be fucking serious? Van Damme would totally kick Seagal’s ass any day.”_ **

**_“You are out of your fuckin’ mind, Army. Have you seen that ponytail? That’s a powerful ponytail.”_ **

**_“That ponytail is GAY AS FUCK!”_ **

**_He can see by the look in Ian’s eyes that he is trying to push his buttons. The red hair is bright in the firelight and he almost smirks back at Ian, the glint in his eyes contagious._ **

**_“You calling Seagal gay?” he challenges, getting up to his feet._ **

**_Ian stands up too and edges forward, getting in his personal space. “Whatcha gonna do if I am?”_ **

**_He grabs Ian and puts him in a headlock, ruffling his hair. “Say it…Van Damme’s a pussy.” Ian is fighting against him. They are both laughing – it’s all in good fun- but he can sense Ian really wants to get the upper hand._ **

**_Then his legs fall out from under him and they are wrestling on the floor._ **

**_“That one of your army moves hey, Tough Guy?”_ **

**_“Yeah and I got more,” Ian pants out as Mickey gets his weight over the kid._ **

**_“You sure?” he teases._ **

**_Then the little fucker somehow rolls them and then Ian has him pinned. When did Freckles get so strong he wonders as he looks up into those determined green eyes._ **

**_“Seagal’s the fucking pussy, Mick. You say it.”_ **

**_Ian’s face breaks out in a smile again and he can’t help but smile too._ **

**_“Not fucking saying it, Army.” He stops fighting and they are just smiling at each other and then he feels weird. Maybe something in the way Ian is looking at him? He feels panic rush over him and his heartrate spikes. Then the anger. “Get the fuck off me,” he growls out, shoving Ian hard. He scrambles up onto his feet, Ian still sitting on the floor; his face full of hurt and confusion._ **

**_“What the fuck, Mick? What did I do?”_ **

**_He runs out of the building, his name echoing off the walls as Ian calls after him._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Mickey is starting to explore his sexuality but is in a serious amount of denial - not even able to acknowledge his crush on Mr. M. It's a process and we know he'll eventually get there.
> 
> ** Do not be concerned about Mr. Mitchell - he's a good guy - Mickey has a typical school boy crush on his teacher and we are only hearing about their interactions through Mickey's eyes (and from his 'take' on the world around him). Mr M would be horrified if he knew what Mickey was thinking about him. Mickey stated that he thought Mr. M was about 28 - I'd say he's about 25 tops and new to teaching.
> 
> ** Ian will start to feature more in Mickey's diary from the next chapter onwards. We may see more dreams too! 
> 
> PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS AND KUDOS - they mean the world to a writer!  
> Wherever you are in the world I hope you are safe and healthy - both physically and mentally. Things aren't great for me right now and I'm struggling so I am going to try and focus on others and be grateful for all my blessings.   
> Thank you for reading!  
> Take care  
> Rachael x


	4. 2010

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey's journal entries and dreams from 2010

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: some more disrespectful behaviour towards women in this chapter including comments about body size.
> 
> ** WARNING: mentions of predatory behaviour (sexual) by an adult with a minor (M/M). Similar to what we saw in Shameless seasons one to three where minor thinks they are capable of consent and doesn't understand what is actually happening! 
> 
> ** Mickey turns 16 in this chapter and Ian turns 14.
> 
> ** DREAMS ARE, AS ALWAYS, IN BOLD ITALIC TEXT.

** January 31st 2010 **

I guess you can fucking congratulate me – I’m FINALLY not a loser virgin!! Iggy took me around to Angie Zargo’s house - said I needed to get laid cos I’m always so fucking angry. I didn’t know whether to feel sorry for the bitch or revolted by her. She just opens her fucking legs for anyone. Maybe she’s a teenage sex addict or some shit. She was acting like it was the same as eating your breakfast. 

She kept her clothes on – thank fuck – and I just pushed my jeans down to my knees. I jerked myself off to get hard, not looking at her, she’s fucking gross and fat. Like really fucking fat. Yeah I think I feel sorry for her – guys just use her like a fucking hole, just like I did. Fucked up man. 

I wore a rubber and when I couldn’t cum I just pretended. She didn’t know the fucking difference. When I pulled out I turned around to take off the rubber so she couldn’t see it was empty and shoved my dick back in my pants – I was already going soft. I guess the tightness was good around my dick and I kept thinking about the hottest gay porn I’ve watched but she was talking and moaning and distracting me. If I’m gay, Pops is going to beat the living shit out of me. Fuck, he’ll probably kill me. Maybe this is just some stupid phase and I’ll grow out of it. Some sort of sexual experimentation teenage shit. I’ve heard of that. Probably just need to meet the right girl, I mean, have you seen the girls around here? Pack of skanks. 

****

**_ February 9th 2010 _ **

**_He has no idea where the fuck he is. He’s in a park in a shitty suburb that he doesn’t recognise and the air smells, well, different. Call it instinct but he knows it’s not Southside, and he knows he’s never been here before. When he turns around, Ian is in front of him. “Where the fuck did you come from?”_ **

**_“Over there,” Ian points down the road towards some run-down houses._ **

**_“Where the fuck are we?”_ **

**_“Long Beach,” Ian says, as if Mickey should know this._ **

**_“Long Beach as in like California?” he asks, his voice rising in pitch._ **

**_“Yep, I live here Mick.”_ **

**_“But we are always in Chicago – Southside.” He frowns as he scans his surrounds and moves towards a park bench. “I need to sit the fuck down.”_ **

**_“I know, but this is a nice change, isn’t it?” Ian asks, as he follows behind him._ **

**_He sits down on the filthy bench and Ian plops down beside him. The sun is setting, and it’s getting cold. “Yeah, I guess so. Just a fuckin’ surprise is all.”_ **

**_Ian pulls out a smoke and lights it, taking a puff and handing it over to him with a grin on his face._ **

**_“What’s got you so happy, freckles?”_ **

**_“Got me a job as a busboy.”_ **

**_“Who the fuck hires a thirteen-year-old?”_ **

**_“Well, it’s me and a bunch of illegal immigrants. But the manager is a cool dude, gives me extra cash at the end of my shifts.”_ **

**_“The fuck he do that for?” he asks, face screwed up._ **

**_Mickey doesn’t trust people. If it sounds too good to be true, then it usually fucking is. Why would some fuck who’s hiring illegal immigrants and paying them cash under the table give extra money to a kid? It doesn’t sit right in his gut._ **

**_“Maybe he’s just a good guy Mick. Not everyone’s an asshole.”_ **

**_“You need to grow the fuck up Ian. Everyone’s an asshole.”_ **

**_“Well at least I got some money now and can help Fiona with the bills.”_ **

**_He takes a last puff and puts the cigarette out on the bench before throwing the butt into the grass. They sit in silence for a minute or so. He wants to tell someone about Angie Zargo. Well maybe not all of it. Maybe all of it. So he just blurts it out, “I fucked a girl.” He keeps his eyes looking straight ahead, not game to look at Ian and see his reaction. Then he realises how fucking messed up it was to say, ‘I fucked a GIRL.’ Cos who else would he be fucking? Definitely not a dude._ **

**_Ian takes a long time to respond. “That’s…great Mickey. You…you…like it?”_ **

**_“What sort of stupid fucking question is that? Course I liked it, got my dick wet, didn’t I?” He sounds aggressive and annoyed and pissed off. Rubbing his forehead, he wonders why he fucking brought this up in the first place._ **

**_Ian stands up and walks a few feet away. It feels like Ian is mad or upset with him. “Hey man, don’t be jealous, you’ll be fucking some girl before you know it. You’re nearly fourteen. Iggy was fourteen.” Ian says nothing and still doesn’t turn around. He gets up and walks over to stand beside him. “The truth? It wasn’t very good. She was just lying there and moaning, trying to sound like a porn star. Was fuckin’ distracting actually. For all the hype, it was a fuckin’ disappointment.”_ **

**_“Yeah? Maybe it was just the wrong person?” Ian turns and looks at him. He looks nervous and scared and it makes no sense to Mickey. Ian continues, “They say sex is better with someone you love.”_ **

**_He shoves Ian with his shoulder, “You’re such a fuckin’ pussy Ian. Should’ve been a girl - sprouting all that romantic bullshit.” He smirks at Ian, cos he just wants him to stop acting weird and smile, laugh, be fucking happy. But Ian just gets this determined look in his eyes, like he’s preparing for a fight._ **

**_“What? You mean I’m a faggot? That’s what you wanted to call me, isn’t it, Mick?”_ **

**_“The fuck? No, I just meant you’re a sap. Sensitive and shit.”_ **

**_“And what if I am a faggot? What then Mick?”_ **

**_He feels like the oxygen is sucked right out of the air. His head is suddenly thumping, and his hands are sweating, and his back too. Fuck, he’s on fire as he feels the blush creep up his neck and onto his cheeks. Ian is staring at him, body tense, perhaps ready to fight or run. Maybe he thinks the red on his face is anger, not the fear and embarrassment it really is._ **

**_So many thoughts are rushing through his head, all too fast to lock any one down. Time is passing and they are just staring at each other. He’s not ready to tell Ian his secret. That would make it real, to say it out loud. But he doesn’t want to hurt Ian either - fuck, Ian is gay? What the fuck?! Did I know this already? He feels like he’s not as shocked as he should be. Because maybe he knew? Or suspected? Maybe, when they were wrestling and Ian had him pinned. The way Ian looked at him. Did he run because of what he saw in Ian’s eyes? Or because of what he felt? Mickey backs a step away. He can’t process all this. It’s too fucking much._ **

**_He looks at the ground when he finally speaks, “Mr. Mitchell’s a faggot. I don’t give a shit if you are too.” He gets the courage to raise his eyes again. “Are you?”_ **

**_Ian looks down and shuffles from foot to foot, still weighing up his options. “Yeah Mick, I think I am. I haven’t done anything yet, but yeah, I think so.”_ **

**_Mickey can’t believe Ian is not even fourteen yet and knows what he is, and can say it out loud, and he doesn’t look ashamed. He knows the fear in Ian’s eyes is a fear of rejection. He knows it because it’s his deepest fear too. He won’t reject Ian. “It’s cool,” he says, “You got another smoke?”_ **

**_“Yeah,” Ian says, pulling a single smoke out of his top pocket, a smile spreading across his face at long last._ **

****

** March 21st 2010 **

I went back to see Mrs Fox today. Hadn’t seen her in so long. I felt bad for not visiting because if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have my art, probably wouldn’t have any chance of getting out of here. She hugged me and cried – yep actual fucking tears. Found out she’d been calling Mr. M and checking up to see if I was doing my schoolwork and still drawing/painting. 

I showed her my sketch book and she smiled the whole time and asked me questions about each one. She asked who the red-haired boy was, so I just said he’s a friend and he’s got a good face to draw. I told her I was struggling to keep up with my ‘C’ average so she said she could tutor me after school one day a week. At first I said no, but then I thought about how hard it is to study at home and this way I could get shit done without Pops knowing. So I’m still staying back after school Monday’s with Mr. M and now I’ll be heading over to see Mrs. Fox on Thursday’s. 

I don’t know why they are helping a piece of southside trash like me but I’m fucking grateful. Now I’m getting older I’m starting to realise how much I owe them both. These two teachers who get paid shit wages are giving their time to help me for free!! I need to remember that. They care more about me than my own fucking family.

****

** May 14th 2010 **

After school, while I was painting Mr. M asked if he could look through my latest sketch book and I obviously couldn’t say no. But then he asked me about Ian. I told him he was a friend from the neighbourhood that went across town to a different school. Mr. M said, “I can tell by the way you draw him that he means something to you. The ones of him are your best work.” Guess what the fuck came out of my mouth next? I actually fucking - not shitting you - blurted out, ‘he’s gay like you.’ Like what the fuck was I thinking???? Mr. M just laughed it up, thought it was the funniest shit he’d ever heard apparently! Asked me whether it bothered me or not and told me I could talk to him about it if I needed. I just said that it didn’t bother me – Ian or him – and that I was all cool. Felt fucking grown up for not losing my shit.

Grades are going great. Been getting mostly B’s now Mrs. Fox is helping me and even got an A in math the other day. Guess I’m not as fucking stupid as Pops said I am. Oh and I almost forgot, Mr. M wants me to enter the painting I did of Ian in this fancy as fuck art competition. The winner gets five hundred bucks and the painting gets put up in some art gallery. Mr. M said he’d take care of it so I said, ‘why the fuck not?!’

****

** July 3rd 2010 **

Jesus fucking Christ I nearly got arrested. Pops made me and Iggy go on a drug run with him and on the way back we stopped to get some gas and food and shit. Iggs and me went in the store to stock up on food and the police came out of fucking nowhere and started searching the car. Me and Iggs got out the back of the store and ran. Pops has been arrested and he’s going to be fucking mad. We had only picked up weed and it wasn’t that much but he’s still going to be back in prison for sure. Which is a fucking nightmare cos we have to live. Iggy will keep up with the gun and drug deals which he does with the cousins but Mandy and I will probably have to steal shit like food. Stupid motherfucker Terry! This better not fuck up my grades. Although it’ll be good to have some peace and fucking quiet around here and not have to worry bout getting my ass whipped.

****

** September 18th 2010 **

I WON the fucking art competition. $500 big ones! Tomorrow Mr. M is taking me down to receive the check and my photo is going to get put in the local paper – thank fucking Christ no one around here reads – and then it’s getting hung in some art gallery downtown for a month. Mr. M said I can sell it if I want to. Get more money. Part of me wants to and part of me doesn’t. It’s the best painting I’ve ever done and I kind of want to keep it for longer. Is that fucking pussy shit? Took me weeks to paint it. 

I should probably use the money to buy food and shit since Terry’s going to be locked up for a while but fuck it, not going to! I’m going to open me a bank account and put it in there so no one – especially fucking Terry – can ever get their greasy hands on it. I’m going to need money when I go to college. Maybe I can make money off my art, you know make it a career or some shit. Be an artist, like Ian says.

****

**_ September 21st 2010 _ **

**_Mickey walks across the outdoor basketball court towards Ian, who seems to be completing some sort of drill; running up and down the grandstand steps in his ROTC uniform. He knows immediately this is somewhere in Long Beach, that he’s on Ian’s home turf again._ **

**_The first time he saw Ian in his ROTC uniform a couple of weeks ago he just stared. Probably had his mouth open too. Ian looked older, and it suited him. Maybe it was just knowing that Ian was in High School that had made him stop thinking of him as a kid. It felt like the age gap was closing; they were both teenagers in high school._ **

**_He didn’t like that he also noticed how Ian’s shoulders were broadening and muscles were rippling under his skin-tight t-shirt. He knows he shouldn’t notice that shit, but his eyes take it in all the same. Right now, as he steps up into the grandstand, his eyes roam over Ian’s body; sweat is causing the t-shirt to stick to his torso, defined abs on display._ **

**_Mickey sits down and throws one leg over the bench as Ian puts his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. “How’s is going, Army?” he asks, surprised by the teasing lilt in his voice._ **

**_“Pretty fucking good Mick. How bout you?”_ **

**_Mickey thinks about whether he’ll play it cool. He wants to, he wants Ian to be impressed. He leans back on his hands and tilts his head to look up at Ian—who is now stretching. “I never told you this, but I entered a painting in an art competition a few months back.” He pauses for dramatic effect. Ian realises he has something important to say and stops stretching, sitting his ass down on the bench next to him._ **

**_“And?” Ian prompts, eyes widening in anticipation._ **

**_“And I fucking won. Five hundred bucks.” He cocks his eyebrows up twice then bites down on his bottom lip to stop the dorky smile that wants to take up residence on his face._ **

**_“You fucking serious? I told you you were good Mickey. Fucking congrats man. What you gonna do with five hundred bucks?”_ **

**_Ian’s enthusiasm is contagious, and he lets himself smile and enjoy the moment._ **

**_“I opened a bank account. Put it all in there. It’s for college. Didn’t wanna fuckin’ waste it on weed or booze.”_ **

**_“Mick, I’m so proud of you. You’re gonna get out. You’ll be a famous painter one day, I know it.”_ **

**_“Army, the only thing I’ll probably ever paint is a house.” He says it to be funny, but once it’s out of his mouth, he’s worried it’s the truth and his smile falls away._ **

**_“No fucking way, Mickey! You’ve got a ‘B’ average now - you’re getting that scholarship. Hey what was the painting of?”_ **

**_Mickey can feel the heat rise on his cheeks, and he looks away trying to get a better control of himself. “It was of you, actually.”_ **

**_“You shitting me Mick? Are people gonna see a painting of me?”_ **

**_“Guess they are, Freckles.”_ **

**_“Wish I could see it.”_ **

**_“Wish you could too.”_ **

**_Ian stands up and pulls off his sweaty t-shirt. Mickey just stares for a few seconds. He knows his mouth has gone slack, maybe he even licks his lips. Ian is looking through his backpack, then pulls out another t-shirt and starts putting it on. Mickey feels like his body is a separate entity; one that his mind has no control over. His body is being a bitch; it likes what it likes, and it has strong fucking opinions about it. If he feels the blood rushing to his dick and he ignores it, does it still count?_ **

**_Mickey pulls his leg back over the bench so he’s sitting normally and can lean forward and hide what he wishes wasn’t happening. He needs to get Ian distracted and talking. “So, how’s school? How’s work?” he asks, hoping Ian has something interesting to tell him._ **

**_Ian sits down next to him, too close. “Well…I think I might be seeing someone.”_ **

**_“What the fuck? Who?” Mickey sounds angry, and that’s because he is. He feels fucking furious, and it’s mixed in with…with jealousy? Shit shit shit! He stands up because he doesn’t know what to do with the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Ian is looking scared, so he tries to calm himself and sits back down._ **

**_“Mickey is this because I’m gay? I don’t have to tell you if it makes you uncomfortable.”_ **

**_“Nah, it’s cool. Was just surprised. So, who is he?” he asks, wanting to know and not wanting to know at the same time._ **

**_“We’ve just hooked up a few times and kissed and handy j’s. And BJ’s.”_ **

**_“So, you liked it? You definitely gay then?” Mickey feels dizzy as fuck. Nothing is in focus as he realises Ian—who is nearly two years younger than him—has blown another guy. He’s had a dude’s dick down his throat, probably swallowed his cum._ **

**_“Yeah, I liked it, 100% gay.”_ **

**_“So, who the fuck is it? One of your friends from school? That guy Eddie you talk about?”_ **

**_“Fuck no, he’s as straight as they come. Nah, it’s my boss, Derek.”_ **

**_Mickey fucking explodes. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying he just knows he wants to kill that motherfucker. Ian is saying, ‘he’s not a paedophile Mick,’ and ‘calm down Mickey,’ and other stupid shit._ **

**_He grabs Ian by the shirt and pulls him in so their faces are inches apart. “It’s fucking sick. He’s taking advantage of you.”_ **

**_“What do you care?” Ian says back, daring him, eyes never leaving his._ **

**_“What do I care? Fuck you Ian.” He shoves Ian hard and walks away._ **

****

** October 16th 2010 **

It’s been weeks since I dreamt about Ian hooking up with his pedo boss and I can’t stop thinking about it. I know that it’s only dreams, I’m not fucking stupid – no matter how real they feel I know they aren’t. So why do I have this sick feeling in my gut that Ian needs me? That somewhere out in the world, Ian is a living, breathing human being that needs someone to protect him. 

Plus I’m still fucking mad and I don’t even know why really. I need to get on with my life. I only really talk to Mandy and Iggy and Mr M and Mrs Fox. I don’t want nothing to do with those fuckers at school but maybe I should? Fuck who am I kidding I’m angry cos I don’t have the guts to do what Ian did. I don’t have the guts to go out and find a guy to fuck or suck me off. I’m too chicken shit to even find out who I am. Still hiding from my Pops.

** October 27th 2010 **

I did it, I fucking did it. I feel different. Feel like I could run a god damn marathon or climb a mountain or some shit. I went to Boystown and got into a club with a fake ID. I freaked out at first seeing all these guys grinding up on each other on the dance floor, even saw one dude getting jerked off right there in front of everyone. I sat at the bar and ordered a whisky which took the edge off my nerves. Was fucking nervous. 

The first two dudes that approached me were too old, so I told them to fuck off. Then this guy that looked about twenty-five bought me a drink and we started talking. I’m not much of a talker but he asked me if I wanted to go into the back room with him so I said yes. When we went into the back room I didn’t realise I’d be walking into a fucking live porno! Dudes were fucking in there!! I mean it was pretty dark but you could still see, and hear, and smell the sex. 

For a minute I panicked and nearly left but then he said, ‘can I blow you’ and that’s what I wanted. He was hot – almost six foot and ripped. Blonde hair and blue eyes, kind of looked like a surfer dude. He pushed me back against the wall, got down on his knees and pulled out my dick. I was already half hard so once he started I was hard as a rock. I watched his lips stretch around my dick and I nearly blew my load straight away. If I looked up I could see these two guys fucking across the other side of the room. I was so fucking turned on, then the dude blowing me starting rubbing his finger on my hole and I couldn’t stop it – I came so fucking hard in his mouth and he swallowed it and it was so hot. 

Then it was time to swap over. He sort of pushed me down and I tried to think of every porn I’d seen. The guys dick was bigger than mine, not huge, but it was thick too. I didn’t like it as much as receiving but I still liked it. Maybe if he hadn’t thrust so hard at the end - I gagged a couple of times. I was thinking about Ian while I did it, what his dick might look like, or taste like, or feel like. The dude came in my mouth and it was fucking thick to swallow. I don’t know what I expected.

Next time I go back I think I want to fuck someone. Not ready to be fucked yet. Not sure I’d trust some random dude for the first time, but I think I’m going to like fucking dudes. This blow job was a fucking thousand times better than the BJ with Angela and the fuck with Angie combined. It felt…right. 

****

**_ November 30th 2010 _ **

**_They are at the Docks and it’s getting late, maybe around midnight. The place is quiet; they haven’t seen anyone for the thirty minutes they’ve been walking around and checking out the boats. Mickey knows there should be a security guard somewhere, but maybe the dude’s catching some zzz’s._ **

**_They’ve been talking about all kinds of shit—school, family, Ian’s ROTC, Mickey’s art—just catching up. What he really wants to ask is if Ian has fucked his boss. Since their argument, neither of them has mentioned it again. Mickey studies Ian to see if he’s changed; surely fucking a dude for the first time would change you? He knows it would, will, change him. But if Ian has, then he’s holding his cards close to his chest._ **

**_Mickey has spent way too much time wondering if Ian is doing the fucking or getting fucked. Almost as much time as he has spent wondering which he would, will, prefer. Maybe only trial and error can answer that question. Although the amount of times he has stuck his fingers up his ass to cum is giving him a good idea. But would he feel the same if it was something bigger, like a dick?_ **

**_“Mick, I’ve got a joint. You wanna climb up on this boat and smoke it?”_ **

**_“You’ve had a joint this whole fuckin’ time, and this is the first I’m hearing of it?” he snarks._ **

**_Ian just laughs at him. Doesn’t matter how shitty he gets, Ian doesn’t take him seriously. In fact, he seems to think it’s cute and Mickey doesn’t know how he feels about that._ **

**_They climb up onto the boat—it’s big, and it’s real nice. At one end they find this giant sofa as big as a bed. They pull the waterproof cover back and lay down, looking up at the stars. He waits for Ian to light up the joint and take a hit before he holds out his hand impatiently. He relaxes with the first hit—knowing how good he’s about to feel._ **

**_“Do you ever think that maybe life could get better for us?” he asks, turning his head to smile at Ian as he passes the joint back._ **

**_“Sure Mickey. I’m not gonna waste my life and neither are you,” Ian whispers back, the weed turning them into soft bitches._ **

**_Mickey suddenly feels free and reckless and peaceful and content all at the same time. In one fluid movement he sits up and straddles Ian, who is slow to react, his high making him giggle after Mickey is already resting his weight over him. He takes the joint back, “Shotgun,” he says, then inhales deeply. Leaning over Ian, he watches those green eyes widen with shock and lips part in readiness. Mickey doesn’t quite let their lips touch as he exhales into Ian’s waiting mouth._ **

**_He sits back up, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. No, it’s more than satisfied, it’s cocky. But Ian doesn’t smile back, he stares at Mickey instead—eyes gazing all over his face, pausing at his mouth and then travelling down his torso and back up to his eyes. Mickey realises - or maybe just stops denying—in that moment, that he wants Ian. His best friend. Maybe he loves him? He definitely wants him. And it’s not just physical - no, it’s not that simple._ **

**_Mickey climbs off Ian and stands up without saying a word. He walks over to the edge of the boat and looks out over the water. With his back still turned to Ian he says, “I don’t want you seeing Derek.”_ **

**_He listens to Ian standing up and then a warm hand comes to rest on the back of his neck. His heart pounds against his ribs in response. “Ok, I won’t,” Ian whispers barely loud enough for him to hear._ **

**_Mickey slowly turns around, not daring to look Ian in the eyes. Long arms wrap around him in a hug, but it’s not a hug, Ian is holding him. Ian is taller now, and he nuzzles his nose in against Ian’s neck. The only sound is their laboured breathing. Ian has one arm wrapped around his waist and the other has moved up to his neck, his thumb gently rubbing through his hair._ **

**_Then Mickey feels Ian place a soft, gentle kiss to his neck. It’s slightly wet, so he knows Ian’s lips are parted and pressed to his skin. And he wants… He should tell Ian he’s gay. Because he is… He’s gay… He’s going to tell him…_ **

****

** November 30th 2010 **

It’s 5 am and I fucking woke up too soon. I need to know what happened, I want back in. Fuck I’m nearly hyperventilating, and I’ve been sweating so much in my sleep my sheets are damp. Fuck, it felt so real. Always feels so real. WHY CAN’T IT BE REAL????? Why can’t Ian be real? I’m fucking insane, aren’t I? There’s something so wrong with me that the only relationship, the only good relationship I can have is in my mind!! I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore. Four years it’s been now. I’m gonna have to tell someone aren’t I? Maybe they’ll put me in a fucking psych ward?

And to make it even worse, Terry is fucking getting released from prison today. Will need to be more careful. I get so careless when he’s not here – been leaving drawings everywhere and my paintings left out to dry. Can’t wait to get out of this motherfucking place. In less than two years I can be gone. Just got to keep my grades up and stay out of trouble.

Ian kissed me. On my neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Mickey's journal writing is improving! I see more commas (and other stuff) in his future. :)
> 
> **I added some cover art to this fic - at the start of chapter 1 (I use the word 'art' very loosely!!)
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! I am loving the way this fic is going so I hope you are too!!  
> Please take care wherever you are!  
> KUDOS AND COMMENTS will put a huge smile on my face because then I know other people got something out of my writing.  
> Rachael x   
> Twitter @dancelovermk I also have tumblr: rmkdance but I have basically nothing on there cos I don't know how to use it! LOL!!! Feel free to contact me on either platform or see you on one of our FB groups.


	5. 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Select dreams and diary entries from 2011...
> 
> Things are hotting up in Mickey's dreams!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: racist slur in this chapter (previous warnings are a given)
> 
> As always DREAMS are in bold italics
> 
> Mickey turns 17 and Ian turns 15 in this chapter!!

** January 2nd 2011 **

**_It’s getting late, and it’s freezing cold, but Mickey is anything but cold. His body is vibrating, and he’s flushed with arousal. They are in his favourite place—the dugouts. It’s his safe place, it’s secluded, and it feels like it belongs to them. Ian and Mickey._ **

**_Since the neck kiss they have been different around each other; cautious. But it’s more than that, they are avoiding it, never talking about it as they struggle to find the easiness between them once again. It’s elusive now because the tension is thick and eventually something will have to give. Mickey thinks he will literally combust if something doesn’t happen soon._ **

**_He considers his options; just grab Ian and kiss the fuck out of him, start a fight, or find a way to make Ian make the first move. The truth is, he’s scared shitless. He hasn’t kissed anyone before, and he’s worried he will suck at it._ **

**_Ian is doing pullups, and he watches his biceps contract with each lift. He wonders what it would feel like for Ian to hold him down. It doesn’t make any sense that it would turn him on, but it does, the thought sending blood straight to his dick. He bites his lip in an attempt to stop the lust coursing through him, but it’s not working, and his eyes roam down to the exposed skin on Ian’s stomach. He mutters a soft ‘fuck’ under his breath as Ian drops back down to the ground._ **

**_“Hey Tough Guy, let’s arm wrestle,” he says, “Show me what you’ve got.” He licks his lips and Ian’s eyes drop to his mouth. They want the same thing but neither of them knows how to get it. And certainly not how to ask for it._ **

**_They kneel beside the bench and place their elbows on it. They both hesitate before clasping their hands together, their playful smiles falling away with the touch. Mickey wonders how long he can live with his heart pounding against his rib cage in triple time._ **

**_“You ready Mick?” Ian winks at him. “Not gonna go easy on ya.”_ **

**_“Wouldn’t expect anything else Army,” he replies, raising his eyebrows. “Ready?”_ **

**_“Wait wait, what do I get if I win?”_ **

**_“What do you want?” he asks, the dare obvious in his tone._ **

**_Ian squeezes his hand as if he knows Mickey’s about to run. He freezes up and goes to pull away but then Ian says it, “A kiss.”_ **

**_Their eyes lock and the world stops for a beat. Then Ian’s lips are on him, forcefully, and he is being walked backwards until he hits the fence. Just as suddenly Ian pulls away, and it’s over. They look at each other, chests rising and falling as they struggle to breathe._ **

**_“Mickey…”_ **

**_Ian reaches out and places a hand on his cheek as he steps in closer. Their chests are almost touching, and Ian is leaning in. Slowly, slowly, and the anticipation is making his head spin. His legs are shaking, and goosebumps erupt over his skin. He closes his eyes as Ian’s lips meet his again, but this time it is soft. So gentle. The tiniest whimper escapes his mouth, and he feels embarrassed, but then Ian kisses him again, and a hesitant tongue runs along his lips._ **

**_Wrapping his arms around Ian’s back he pulls them together and kisses back, opening his mouth to let their tongues touch and swirl together. And Ian moans into his mouth. And it’s the most erotic sound he’s ever heard. They kiss and they kiss and it’s hot, and it’s wet and warm and it’s everything. And he’s so fucking hard._ **

**_When they finally pull apart, he knows he is not the same person he was five minutes ago. The world has changed, he has changed, Ian has changed him._ **

**_Ian’s face is flushed red and there is fear in his eyes. “So are you gay?” Ian asks, stepping back and putting some distance between them._ **

**_He hasn’t said it out loud yet; hasn’t tried it on for size. Once he says it, there will be no going back, no more lying to himself._ **

**_“Maybe,” he settles on._ **

**_“Have you…you know…done anything with another guy before?”_ **

**_Part of Mickey doesn’t want to tell Ian, but Ian has already done stuff with his boss and he shared it with him._ **

**_“Yeah. Just once. A guy sucked me off and then I did him.” Mickey feels embarrassed, like there was something wrong with what he did. Maybe it’s just that he wishes this was the first time he did something with a dude. His first experience should have been with Ian and Ian’s should have been with him. There’s a part of his mind yelling ‘faggot’ for having these thoughts. These girly, pussy thoughts. These feelings he has for a dude. But these feelings make him feel good and warm and hopeful._ **

**_“Why didn’t you tell me? Why all the bullshit talk about faggots?”_ **

**_“Because I don’t want to be gay,” he says aggressively, “My Dad will fuckin’ kill me if he finds out.”_ **

**_Ian responds by pulling him in and holding him, swaying their bodies ever so slightly. Mickey lets himself relax against Ian’s chest. Let’s Ian lay sweet kisses to his neck. Let’s hope seep in under his skin._ **

****

** January 3rd 2011 **

There’s no denying it anymore. I’m gay. Why else would I be having these dreams about Ian? We kissed for the first time and when I woke up I swear I could still taste him. Peppermint and cigarettes. Can remember how his lips felt, his tongue, how my whole body shook. Sounds fucking gay doesn’t it? Talking about a dude like that - even if it was only a dream. I’m happiest in my dreams.

Been drawing Ian all morning, trying to capture the look on his face just after he kissed me. Two hours went by and it felt like five minutes. Thank fucking god I have my art. 

Mandy’s become the town slut and I fucking hate it. Hate that she doesn’t give a shit about herself, hate that she thinks she’s in love all the time. How many fucking asshole’s am I going to have to beat up for her? Don’t have any idea how to protect her here. I need to get out so I can get her out too. Iggy is a lost cause – nothing by Terry’s pet monkey.

** February 8th 2011 **

Slept for about twenty hours. Still sleepy. He fucked me up good this time. Terry. Piece of shit motherfucking father. Can’t believe I have to spend my life with his fucking DNA! Mandy wanted to take me to the hospital… can’t afford that shit. Gotta try… back to school… English exam… do good at it. Fuck too tired…

Shit slept another three hours. This concussion is really fucking bad! Was so fucking stupid!! I was watching porn – gay porn – on the laptop. Didn’t even know he was home and I left it on my bed and went to take a piss and while I’m in there he finds it. Come out of the bathroom and walked straight into his fucking fist. My whole face is bruised and my left eye is swollen shut. The pistol whipping is what’s got me fucked up. Don’t even know how long I was out for. Woke up to Mandy screaming, she thought I was dead.

Mr. M’s going to question me again for sure. Sick of this fucking shit. Need to study. Can’t think straight.

** February 10th 2011 **

Mr. M made me stay after class to explain the bruises. Don’t know what happened but when he placed a hand on my shoulder I fucking lost it – just cried like a pussy. Like ugly sobbing with snot and shit. Just couldn’t stop it. Too much fucking pressure!! Just want to paint or draw. But school is hard and keeping up with my grades and looking out for Mandy. Now that Terry thinks I am a faggot he’s going to be on me constantly. And Ian. The dreams mess with my mind. But he makes me happy. Can I stop myself from dreaming about him? Do I have any control over it? Doesn’t feel like it.

Anyway, I told Mr. M. Told him it was my Pops who beat me and told him why. Yeah, I told him I was gay. First time I said it out loud. I’m fucking gay. There, it’s out there now. Can’t take it back. Want to know the most fucked-up part? Mr. M wasn’t surprised, he said he suspected. So apparently to other fags its as obvious as fuck that I’m gay. I asked him how he knew and he said, ‘two things – the way you reacted to my partner and I and the way you draw Ian.’ Then he asked me if Ian was my boyfriend! I just said no and he said, ‘sure looks like he loves you if that’s how he looks at you.’ Shit, he’d get a kick out of it if he knew Ian wasn’t real.

But I feel better now. Feel lighter or some shit. He hugged me and I didn’t fight it. Was nice to have someone accept me. The real me. Mr. M is a good guy. Told me he will always be there for me whenever I need to talk, and I could see he actually meant it.

** March 16th 2011 **

**_Mickey is lying on his back on the sand, the sun is shining down on his face and he feels relaxed. Ian is lying next to him, singing some stupid song off-pitch and he can’t help himself—he laughs._ **

**_“Fuck off Mick. Bet you can’t do any better,” Ian says as he playfully slaps him across the chest._ **

**_“Not even gonna try.” He grabs Ian’s hand before he pulls it away and threads their fingers together, keeping their hands pressed to his chest. They are on a beach, he guesses, somewhere in Long Beach, and there isn’t a single person in sight. Mickey feels his heart pick up speed, the way it always does when he touches Ian. The hand holding surprised him. It grounds him and makes him feel like he’s not alone anymore—it’s him and Ian against the world._ **

**_Ian brushes his thumb up and down, up and down, and he feels his body responding, wanting, needing. Mickey rolls onto his side and Ian immediately mirrors him. Their faces are close, and they watch each other intently. He likes to look at Ian—especially the freckles and the red eyelashes. His stomach feels weird and his breath gets shallow as he leans in closer. Ian smiles at him just before their lips meet and it makes him smile too, the kiss strange at first until they open their mouths and try again. Ian captures his bottom lip and sucks gently. They are getting better at kissing now and Mickey can’t get enough of it._ **

**_After a few minutes they pull their lips off each other and Ian places an arm around his shoulders and coaxes Mickey to lay his head on his chest. Mickey throws a leg over Ian’s to try it out. He imagines they might sleep together like this in a bed. Ian’s heart is racing under his ear and he wraps an arm around Ian’s waist, pulling them closer._ **

**_“Think I’d be happy to lie here forever with you Mick.”_ **

**_Ian lifts his head and places a kiss to the top of his head, and he thinks it may be the most caring thing he’s ever experienced in his fucked-up life. He swallows down feelings he didn’t know he was capable of._ **

**_“Mick, you happy?”_ **

**_“Yeah, course,” he mumbles._ **

**_They lie quietly in each other’s arms for a while before he finds the right words. “Remember when I was banged up a few weeks ago?”_ **

**_“When your Dad beat you again?”_ **

**_“Yeah then. I left a gay porn site open on the laptop when I went to the bathroom. He found it.” Ian says nothing, perhaps realising that this part of the story is irrelevant. Mickey pulls Ian in closer and adjusts his leg before he continues, “He’s never gonna let me be happy Ian. What if I don’t get a scholarship? I’ll have to hide my whole fuckin’ life. Live a lie.”_ **

**_“That won’t happen, Mickey. You’re gonna make it. I know it.”_ **

**_“But how do you fuckin’ know?”_ **

**_“Because I know_ ** **you _. And you’re an artist.”_**

****

** May 5th 2011 **

Worst fucking weekend – Terry finally insisted on me getting the finger tatts like the rest of the family. So I got fuck u-up as my secret message to him. Iggy did them and they look amateur as shit. I like tatts and I wouldn’t mind getting one of my art once I get out of this shithole. Thought I was being smart getting fuck u-up – I was so pissed off at the time – but now it’s going to be harder for people to take me seriously when I get to college. Dumb fucking move.

Then the weekend got even worse, if that’s possible. Terry wanted to go out and celebrate down at the Alibi. Him and Iggs were asking me who I was banging and telling me to get my dick wet. I was wasted and Iggs pushed me into the bathroom with Angie. So I fucked her. Bent her over the wash basin so I didn’t have to look at her. Shut my eyes and tried to imagine it was a guy. I managed to finish this time but then I threw up in the toilet. Don’t know whether it was too much whisky OR fucking a chick that did it. One thing's for sure – I felt like shit for hours. All the fuckwits slapping me on the back to congratulate me for getting laid just made it worse. Swallowing down a lie, living a lie, is not fucking living at all.

****

** July 9th 2011 **

Hate fucking summer break now. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss Mr. M and Mrs. Fox when school’s out. Only fucking sane people I know. The only good part is when Terry goes on runs and I can paint as much as I want. But finding excuses to get out of going on those runs is getting harder all the time. Terry expects it. He can go fuck himself!

** July 22nd 2011 **

**_“Still hate your tatts?” Ian asks as they sit down under the bleachers. It’s Sunday, the place is deserted, and it’s hot as fuck._ **

**_“Fuckin’ ay I do. Every time I look at them, it reminds me of that motherfucker and how his bullshit is gonna follow me around forever. What are people gonna think when I go to college?”_ **

**_“Maybe they’ll think it’s hot.” Ian raises one eyebrow at him. “Being a badass is sexy, Mickey.”_ **

**_“You saying I’m hot?” He tries not to smile cos that would be lame as fuck._ **

**_“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Ian says as he leans in and licks up his neck._ **

**_“Fuck, Ian,” he says, tilting his head in the hope Ian will give him more._ **

**_“You like that, Mick?” Ian whispers in his ear, hot breath tickling his neck._ **

**_“Yeah I do,” he says as he grabs Ian by the shirt and crashes their lips together. Sometimes he can’t get over how much his body craves Ian, his skin, his hands, his lips. It’s the most intense feeling he’s ever experienced, and his lack of control scares the shit out of him._ **

**_He pushes Ian down onto his back as he continues to kiss him roughly. He’s hard, and he moans loudly when his dick pushes against Ian’s. From the feel of it, he thinks Ian’s dick might be big, and he wonders about how it looks, and tastes, and feels, as he grinds down._ **

**_It never takes long for Ian to try and exert his dominance, so it doesn’t surprise him when Ian rolls them. Having his power taken away by Ian is somehow freeing. He trusts him. Ian sits up, straddling him and pins his arms above his head, cocky smile on his face._ **

**_“Mickey…come on, you gotta tell me this time,” Ian almost whines._ **

**_Mickey knows what Ian wants to know because he’s already asked twice. He doesn’t know why he’s avoiding it. Maybe cos once he does, things will progress. And he wants that, his body craves it like a fucking drug. But that’s the problem—once he’s had it, maybe he won’t be able to live without it._ **

**_Ian leans over him, so their faces are close, “I want you Mickey,” he says, keeping their eyes locked. “I wanna fuck you so bad.”_ **

**_The words make his dick throb and he grabs Ian’s hips and starts rutting up against his ass. Ian licks into his mouth again and they roll in the dirt, clawing at each other. It’s never enough, and Mickey wonders if they look like they are fighting._ **

**_He gives in when Ian is on top of him again and surrendering, he spreads his legs so Ian can settle between them._ **

**_“Oh fuck Mickey,” Ian is chanting as they dry hump each other. Their dicks are rubbing against each other through their pants and Mickey is getting way too turned on. “Mickey, I’m thinking about what my dick’s gonna feel like inside you.”_ **

**_Mickey pulls Ian down by the neck and they moan and pant into each other’s mouths as they try to kiss and hump at the same time. Jesus Christ, he wants to cum so bad and he doesn’t think he can stop it, or even wants to. But he doesn’t want to cum if Ian doesn’t. This is their first time going this far._ **

**_“Ian, fuck man, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.”_ **

**_“Tell me Mickey…you want my cock inside you?”_ **

**_The dirty talk pushes him past the point of no return and he’s cumming in his pants and it feels so fucking good. “Yes, Ian… yes… fuck yes,” he moans as his body shudders through his orgasm._ **

**_Ian slows his thrusts and Mickey watches the pleasure wash over Ian’s face as he cums too; his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open. Its beautiful. It affects him knowing he had something to do with Ian feeling that pleasure. Ian moans ‘Mickey Mickey Mickey’ through the release. The way Ian says his name fills him up._ **

**_Ian grabs his face and kisses him one more time before dissolving into laughter. “What the fuck was that Mick?”_ **

**_“Fucking embarrassing is what it was.”_ **

**_“Felt pretty good though,” Ian says, voice soft and low._ **

**_“Yeah it did,” he agrees as he reaches up to touch Ian’s face._ **

****

** July 22nd 2011 **

Fuck me! I woke up and I’d cum in my sleep – when I had been dreaming of Ian. As in dreaming of…well, cumming!! Haven’t had a wet dream in a couple of years. When I first woke up I was still half asleep and I was reaching out for him. Fucking pathetic! Don’t know what’s happening with me. I fall asleep thinking about him, dream of him – obviously – and wake up thinking about him. All day I struggle to concentrate. He fucking consumes my thoughts. Now that we’re not just friends anymore. Shit, what the fuck am I saying right now!? You see? This is so fucked up man, he feels real. In the few minutes after I wake up from a dream, it’s like my skin is still warm from where he was touching me, or my lips are swollen from kissing him. I’m not imagining it, I’m not.

Since we started kissing and messing around it’s gotten worse. We used to talk more and be relaxed and have fun. Now it’s like we can’t think of anything other than our dicks. My mind is constantly thinking about fucking. About fucking Ian. Or him fucking me. If we do fuck will it get easier or will I just want him even more? I think I need to go back to Boystown and get fucked for real. Take my mind off it. Replace Ian with someone REAL!!!

****

** August 17th 2011 **

Took me more than three weeks to get the nerve to go to Boystown. Went back to the same club and a bunch of old geriatric viagroids hit on me. Then I saw this young guy who was a bit too faggy for my taste, but he was young and he had a good body and it was getting late. He bought me a drink and tried to make small talk so I just said you want to fuck or what? He asked me if I topped and I said sure. I had a condom and lube in my pocket so I was ready.

Once we made it into the back room the guy – Randy was his name I think – took my dick out and started blowing me – felt good – but then he tried to kiss me. Just shoved his tongue in my mouth without any warning. I don’t know what happened after that. I lost my shit, told him to fuck off and ran out of there. I barely got my dick back in my pants. It didn’t feel right. It wasn’t Ian. As stupid as this fucking sounds I felt guilty, like I was cheating on him. I need to figure this shit out – I’m seventeen now - I should be out fucking all the time.

** September 11th 2011 **

Today I did something I didn’t think I would ever do – told Mrs. Fox that I’m gay and that my Dad beats me. She looked really sad and I thought she was disgusted or disappointed in me for being gay. But I was wrong, she said it made no difference to her and she just wished she could help me with my home situation. Have no fucking idea what she can do. Told her not to call DCFS or I’d end up worse off. 

What I really wanted to talk to her about is my dreams. When I said I have like ‘gay’ dreams all the time about the same person she said that’s probably just my brains way of working through my emotions and shit – like coming to terms with being gay. That kind of makes sense. Maybe I’m not fucking crazy after all. I think I’ll do some research about dreams. Maybe I should just enjoy my dreams and stop stressing about it.

Mrs Fox and I did some drawing together after the tutoring session. Was peaceful.

****

** September 24th 2011 **

I fucked up so bad! Terry got stuck into me about being a pussy and needing to prove myself. He wanted me to rob this convenience store cos the owner is a towel head or some shit. I did it, armed! Don’t think they have cameras. Could have been caught and thrown away everything. Got to get control of my fucking temper man. Terry fucking played me, and I made it so easy for him. 

After school today I went and saw Mrs. Fox. Guess she’s kind of become like a mom or grandma to me this year. I trust her. I told her I did something that could have got me thrown in prison. I wanted to tell Mr. M too, but I didn’t want him to know – he’s done so much for me. My artwork is as good as it is because of everything he’s taught me. Didn’t want him to know I nearly threw it all away because there is still a part of me that’s fucking ashamed of being gay. Am I always going to feel like this? Can’t see me having a boyfriend and being out and proud. Not planning on any attending any pride parades!

Anyway, Mrs Fox said she’s been thinking about it a lot and I can go live with her til I go to college. I thought she was making a joke and I laughed at her. But I don’t think she was joking. I said no, of course. That’s fucking crazy right? I couldn’t leave Mandy anyway, so it’s not even worth thinking about. 

** October 28th 2011 **

Mr. M is helping me get my folio together for my college applications. We are choosing only the best pieces to show. I got more than enough so I’m not worried about it. I need a full ride if I’m going to go to college. I’ve decided not to bother with Yale – best fine art program - but fucking impossible to get into, let alone a scholarship. So I’m applying to School of Art Institute of Chicago (Mr. M said I shouldn’t count it out just because it’s in Chicago), Rhode Island School of Design, Rutgers Uni, Maryland Institute College of Art and UCLA. My gut is pulling me towards UCLA. Maybe I’m a fucking idiot and it’s just because of Ian and this idea that he’s in California. But maybe it would just be great to be on the other side of the country – as far away from Terry as I can get. Maybe there, I can be fucking free!

****

** November 13th 2011 **

**_“Ian, I did something so fuckin’ stupid about a month ago. I didn’t tell you.” Mickey passes his smoke to Ian. They are sitting in their favourite abandoned building on upturned milk crates._ **

**_“What the fuck did you do and why didn’t you tell me?” Ian asks, after he exhales._ **

**_“I robbed a convenience store, and I was armed. Didn’t tell you cos I knew how fuckin’ stupid it was—could have lost my chance at a future.”_ **

**_“So why did you do it?” Ian asks, looking him hard in the eyes._ **

**_“Cos Terry baited me and called me a little faggot and a cock sucker and every other fuckin’ homophobic slur he could think of. And I got mad and wanted to prove that being a faggot doesn’t mean I’m a pussy.”_ **

**_“Who were you trying to prove it to? Him or you?”_ **

**_Sometimes Mickey can’t believe how well Ian knows him. He shakes head and muffles a laugh cos it really is fucking funny. “I freaked out afterwards. Was crying and shit. Was so disappointed in myself for letting him bait me so easily. Went to see Mrs Fox, and she said I can go live with her til I go to college. She has a spare room and an art studio set up too. All I have to do is help her with chores and repairs and shit.”_ **

**_“And you haven’t taken her up on her offer? Mick, do it. It makes me sick when I see you bruised and cut up. I fucking hate it cos I can’t do anything. What the fuck are you waiting for?” Ian is frowning at him with confusion and frustration in his eyes._ **

**_Mickey stands up and walks over to the broken window, looking down at the street below. “Mandy. How can I leave her there? She’s my sister, man.” He feels Ian’s hand on his shoulder, and he lets himself be turned around, so they are facing each other._ **

**_“I get it, I do. But maybe the best chance she has for a future is if you get out now.”_ **

**_“But who’s gonna protect her while she waits?” His body feels tired, and this isn’t how he wants to spend his time with Ian._ **

**_Ian reaches out, grabs his coat and pulls him in. The warmth of Ian’s chest against his relaxes him and he lets his head rest in the crook of Ian’s neck. The skinny little boy he once knew is now taller than him by a few inches, broad shouldered and strong._ **

**_At moments like this he still fights his thoughts. The old Mickey against the new Mickey. The old Mickey makes fun of him; whispers that he’s being a girl when he let’s Ian hug him or hold his hand. But the new Mickey is getting stronger day by day because maybe he loves Ian. Maybe he is in love with Ian._ **

**_Mickey runs his fingers up and down Ian’s back just as Ian’s hands find their way to his ass. It feels so fucking good when Ian kneads his ass and pulls their pelvises together. Once Ian kisses up his neck, he forgets everything. Forgets Mandy. Forgets Terry. Forgets time. When Ian’s tongue enters his mouth, he is already hot, and hard, and desperate._ **

**_Maybe today he’s ready to take things further so, without questioning it, his hands go to Ian’s belt and he starts unbuckling. Ian’s dick is already straining against his jeans, just as Mickey’s is too._ **

**_“Fuck, Mickey,” Ian moans into his mouth when he realises what’s happening. One of Ian’s hands leaves his ass to palm his dick and a fresh wave of heat floods his body. Then he’s got the zip down and his hand is inching inside Ian’s boxers. Fuck! Ian’s dick is warm under his grasp, rock hard and leaking. Mickey breaks away from the kiss to push Ian’s jeans and boxers down so he can look. They are both breathing hard._ **

**_“Fuck Ian, your dick is fucking huge,” he says as he stares at it. It’s a good-looking dick; long and thick and straight. Ian’s red pubes make him smile._ **

**_“Like what you see, Mick?” Ian asks, a cocky smile on his face._ **

**_“What’s not to like, Firecrotch?” He chuckles at his own joke. It’s not very original, but he doesn’t give a shit._ **

**_Ian starts stroking himself and instantly he stops laughing. He swallows hard, thinking about sucking Ian off. Wondering how the fuck he could get all of that down his throat?_ **

**_“Take your dick out Mick. Show me, please,” Ian says, breathy on the please._ **

**_Ian watches him, eyes dark with lust, as he gets his jeans and boxers down, his dick springing free. Mickey’s dick is average in size, he thinks. It curves a bit, it’s not long but it’s got some girth to it._ **

**_“You’re beautiful Mick. Come here, I want to try something.”_ **

**_They shuffle closer together, jeans still around their thighs. Ian spits into his hand, wraps it around both their dicks and strokes them together._ **

**_“Fuck fuck fuck that feels good,” Mickey moans as he watches their pre-cum leak and mix together. He bites his lip and his head rolls back as his legs go weak. He feels euphoric and like he’s floating. Ian grabs him by the neck, shocking him with the forcefulness of it, and then they are kissing urgently as they push up into Ian’s hand._ **

**_“Mickey…can I suck you? Want you in my mouth.”_ **

**_Before he can answer, Ian is on his knees and swirling his tongue around the head of his dick then licking into the slit and tasting him. Shit, he’s already about to cum. He tries to gain some control but Ian’s tongue, his lips, his mouth is on his dick and it's almost too much._ **

**_“Ian, feels so good,” he groans._ **

**_Ian moans in response and slides down his dick, taking him in._ **

**_“Fuck.” He wants to thrust._ **

**_Ian bobs up and down on his dick and their eyes lock onto each other. He reaches down and runs his hands through Ian’s hair. When he sees Ian madly jerking his own dick, he can’t stop it; his balls tighten and he mumbles incoherently, “Ian, gonna cum.”_ **

****

** November 13th 2011 **

It’s 4am. Just woke up in the middle of the most fucking intense orgasm of my life! Ian was blowing me in the dream and just when I was bout to cum in the dream I woke up and came so fucking hard. So much cum. It’s everywhere. And I was moaning ‘Ian’ out LOUD! Yeah, that’s fucking brilliant isn’t it?! (That’s sarcasm!) Lucky everyone was drinking too much last night cos I was a loud motherfucker. Moaning like a girl. The dream was hot, so fucking hot!

****

** December 23rd 2011 **

It's my first night at Mrs. Fox’s house. Well, Betty’s house. She told me to call her Betty from now on. She’s got a fuckton of rules too – no drinking, no drugs, no smoking in the house, no people staying over (like that’s going to happen), no parties, no swearing (what the fuck is that all about?) and I have to do the dishwasher, the garbage, mow the lawn, clean my room, and be home by 9pm on weekdays and 11pm on weekends. At first I was pissed, but then she made me dinner and set up a space for me in her art studio and I decided I can suck it up for six months. Guess I’m gonna find out what it’s like to have a grandma.

Still feel like shit for leaving Mandy but Betty said she can visit anytime. Plus I’ll see her at school every day. I’m a fucking asshole of a brother but I keep thinking about what Ian said and what Mr. M said too. I can’t fuck this up – I’m so close. Once I’ve finished college and I’m set up I can come back and get her. If I don’t go, both our lives will be shit. Got to think long term. None of this Southside bullshit of living day to day in the moment. Not buying that shit anymore. 2012 is my year to get the fuck out of here. Terry doesn't know where I am. Wonder if the motherfucker will come looking for me?

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throughout the last few chapters we've seen Mickey go backwards and forwards about his sexuality and what it means. Is it just sex with men? Is it just Ian? Is it a phase? In this chapter he has finally started to accept himself and this is demonstrated by coming out to the two people he's grown to trust. Having another queer person to come out to the first time around is pretty awesome! Guaranteed acceptance! Thanks Mr. M!! However, it's also important to remember that the bulk of Mickey's sexual experiences are tied up with Ian in his dreams - they are not real - even though to Mickey they feel real. 
> 
> ** My aim is to update this fic each weekend. Chapter 6 is going to be a bit more intense as we head towards the climax of this story. I've set it at 9 chapters - I think the chapters will continue to get longer as we near the end. Chapter 9 is going to be an epilogue of sorts - but a full chapter with a LOT happening. I'm very excited for chapters 8 and 9!! 
> 
> ** For those that also read 'Dance Partners' I apologise for no chapter this week. I had a really difficult week and had zero time to write for a few days. I'm in Melbourne, Australia and we are having a second 'wave' of covid. My business was closed by the government on March 24th for 13 weeks! We were allowed to open for 17 days and now this week we have been closed again - initially it's another 6 weeks but will most probably be 13 + weeks again. Even though a small number of my students are doing our online classes this is financially not something I can survive as I have already burned through all of my life savings the last 4 months. So I am pretty gutted. I have had my business for 28 years! I know I shouldn't complain as I have my health and my loved ones are all ok. I will be aiming for a Dance Partners chapter somewhere between Tuesday and Thursday.
> 
> Please take care everyone!  
> Please leave comments as I would LOVE to hear them - would be a great 'pick me up' for me!  
> Please KUDOS if you are enjoying it and hit the subscribe button.  
> Rachael x


	6. MARCH TO NOVEMBER 2012

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Select diary entries and dreams from March to November 2012.  
> Mickey turns 18 and Ian turns 16 in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Angst alert!  
> * WARNING: anti fundamentalist Christian sentiments  
> * I think Mickey's journal writing is getting better - but he still rushes through his thoughts.  
> * I changed the rating to explicit - little bit because of this chapter but will probably need it by the end chapters.  
> * There is a link to a photo at the end of this chapter  
> * I know very little about U.S colleges other than that they are different to those here in Australia - so please go with the flow if it is inaccurate!

** March 11th 2012 **

**_Ian is sitting in the basketball stands with his head in his hands. Mickey can tell something is really wrong by the way Ian bounces his leg. He's like a scared animal; one wrong move and he’ll bolt. Mickey approaches slowly, climbing up the steps quietly until he is standing beside him._ **

**_“Ian?” he asks, voice gentle._ **

**_“Don’t look at me, Mick,” Ian replies without moving._ **

**_Mickey sits down next to him and places an arm over his shoulders. Immediately Ian turns to him, burying his face into Mickey’s neck and sliding those long arms around his waist._ **

**_Stroking Ian’s back in soothing circles, he tries again, “Ian, what’s happened? Tell me.”_ **

**_“Everything’s fucked up. So fucked up Mickey.”_ **

**_“So talk to me.” He pulls back from Ian and cups his chin in his hand, forcing Ian to look at him._ **

**_Ian leans in and connects their lips, lingering for a few seconds. The bloodshot eyes and red nose are telltale signs of how long Ian has been crying. Mickey wants to kick whoever’s ass is responsible for hurting Ian._ **

**_“Monica came back again last week. She was all happy and shit then two days ago she slit her wrists on the kitchen floor. So much fucking blood Mickey.”_ **

**_“Jesus Christ, is she dead?”_ **

**_“No, she made it. Paramedics got there in time. Mickey, sometimes I hate her so much, but I love her too. I know it doesn’t make any sense.”_ **

**_“Ian, it makes perfect fuckin’ sense. She’s your Mom. Only one you’ve got.” Mickey hates Monica for being so fucking selfish. Conflicting feelings about his own Mom rise in his gut and he pushes them down quickly. “If she’s gonna be ok then why are you out here crying still?” he asks._ **

**_Ian looks away, starring out across the empty basketball courts. “I did something stupid. Guess I was messed up about Monica and this guy called me a faggot at ROTC and I beat the fucking shit out of him.”_ **

**_“What’s the problem with that? Guy fuckin’ deserved it.”_ **

**_“I broke his nose and two ribs and got kicked out of ROTC. Goes on my record, Mickey. It’s gonna fuck up my military career. I loved ROTC. Was the only good thing I had going.”_ **

**_Ian finally turns and looks at him. His eyes are full of tears and when he blinks the tears cascade down his cheeks. Mickey feels fucking helpless. He wishes he’d been there so he could have beat up the kid instead of Ian._ **

**_“You did the right thing—you stood up for yourself and anyone who can’t see that can fuck right off.”_ **

**_He pulls Ian in again and places a kiss to his forehead. He wants to look after him. Sometimes it feels like they were made for each other. Like Mickey’s only one half of a whole and he’ll never be happy without Ian._ **

****

** April 22nd 2012 **

Sometimes I can’t believe kids actually get to grow up in homes like this – like Betty’s. Betty doesn’t have any kids and I think she wishes she did. Found out her husband died years ago, before they had the chance to have any kids, and then she never got married again. Fucking sad story. 

I’m living the dream now. I get fed real food with veggies and shit, she bought me some new clothes, and all the art supplies I could ever want. I go into her art studio whenever I want and paint or draw. Betty sometimes comes in on a Sunday too. We don’t talk much while we paint but it’s peaceful and quiet. And I like the quiet, it helps me paint better. Then she’ll walk over and look at what I’m doing and tell me what she likes about it or give me a suggestion and then leave me to it again. I like it so much here that sometimes I don’t want to leave anymore but…

It's nearly decision time. Got to think of Mandy and how I can make a career out of my art and help her too. So the good – no make that great – fucking news is that I got offers to all five colleges I applied to. Both Chicago School of Art and UCLA offered me a full scholarship. The other three offered me part scholarships. I mean is this even fucking real? A Milkovich going to college – WTF!

If I stay here in Chicago I can look out for Mandy and I can still see Betty and Mr. M so there are a lot of good reasons to go to college here. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that there is something pulling me towards UCLA. I mean L.A. - fucking California with the sun and the beach and no more stressing about turning a corner and seeing Terry. In L.A. I can fuck whoever I want. 

** May 2nd 2012 **

**_They are at their beach—which he thinks is in Long Beach—and it’s sunset and it’s fucking beautiful. Ian is kinda crazy, all hyped up and running around like a madman. It’s nice to see him smiling again, after being so down about his Mom’s attempted suicide and getting kicked out of ROTC. Mickey wishes he had that much energy._ **

**_“Come on Mick, race me. It’ll be fun. I’ll give you a head start and everything. Come on Mick.” Ian is bouncing all around him and speaking fast like he took a hit of coke._ **

**_“What’s with all the fuckin’ energy today man? You’re wearing me out.”_ **

**_“Fuck Mick—look at that sunset. Doesn’t it feel great to be alive? Feel like I could run a marathon.” Ian throws his arms out to the sides and looks up at the sky with a huge smile on his face. “Mickey, Mickey, you should paint this sky. You could paint it so good. Now race me you motherfucker.” Ian laughs and pushes him down to the sand, stands over him and tickles him under the ribs._ **

**_“You better run tough guy, cos you’re dead if I catch you,” he warns, laughing through every word. He scrambles up as Ian takes off down the beach. Mickey knows he can’t catch him anymore; Ian is about to turn sixteen and he’s at least four inches taller than him with the longest fucking legs you’ve ever seen. He chuckles to himself as he watches Ian deliberately slow down. The cheeky fucker wants to be caught. Well, he can accommodate him._ **

**_Mickey throws himself onto Ian’s back and they land on top of each other in the sand. They are both breathless and laughing, and Mickey starts tickling the shit out of him. The more Ian laughs—the dorkiest of laughs—the more Mickey tickles him._ **

**_“Mickey stop, stop, Mickey, you win.”_ **

**_“And don’t you forget it freckles,” he says, grinning down at Ian who is flat on his back under him._ **

**_“Kiss me, Mick.”_ **

**_Mickey could never say no to Ian, not that he wants to, anyway. He slowly closes the distance, relishing in the anticipation and those large hands sliding around his back and pulling him down. Ian captures his bottom lip and sucks gently before they both open up and let their tongues do the talking; sweet and soft at first before the urgency builds. He could kiss Ian all day. He likes kissing Ian everywhere._ **

**_So he kisses down Ian’s neck, loving the moans he hears in response. He settles back on his knees between Ian’s leg’s and pushes Ian’s shirt up so he can lick and suck at his nipples and washboard abs. Then he undoes Ian’s pants, pulling them down enough to get at his dick. Every time he sees it, he marvels at its perfection._ **

**_Ian has propped himself up on his elbows to watch the show. He looks up at Ian and watches him as he licks from the base up to the tip. Ian wasn’t fully hard when he pulled him out of his boxers, but he is now. While swirling his tongue around the head and licking into the slit, he rolls Ian’s balls gently in his hands._ **

**_“Oh fuck, Mickey, take my cock in your mouth, please.” Ian is flushed red, and he tries to push up into his mouth. Mickey loves this feeling of power, of seeing Ian desperate for him. They normally say dick so Ian saying cock somehow makes it hotter, and he swallows him down, taking as much as he can, using his hand to pump the rest._ **

**_Mickey continues sucking Ian off, getting himself get more and more worked up as Ian approaches his orgasm. Ian reaches down and touches Mickey's face, fingers seeking where Mickey’s lips are connected to his own cock. Ian thrusts lighting up into his mouth and then he’s coming in Mickey’s mouth and calling out his name._ **

**_Mickey gently pulls off and sits up, palming his own cock that is rock hard in his jeans._ **

**_“Mickey…want to watch you. Get your cock out and cum on me.”_ **

**_Mickey just looks at him for a moment as his cock throbs hard in his pants. Ian’s still lying on his back with his shirt pushed up and cock hanging out—all flushed and eyes black with lust. When Ian strokes his balls and cock again, clearly still horny as fuck, he takes himself out and starts pumping. He’s biting his lip hard because he’s so fucking turned on by Ian watching him. Fuck. He strokes himself hard and fast, feeling his release build and his balls tighten._ **

**_“Fuck Mickey, you’re so hot. Fucking cum on me.”_ **

**_He cums so hard he can hardly keep his body upright. Watching himself shoot across Ian’s cock and stomach is like starring in his own porn video. He sits back on his feet to catch his breath. “What the fuck’s got into you today?” he asks, with a grin on his face._ **

**_“Don’t know, just fucking horny all the time. Like all the time,” Ian replies._ **

**_“Well we didn’t think this through very well. How we cleaning this mess up?”_ **

**_“Guess one of us is using our boxers and going commando.”_ **

**_“Yeah well that’d be you since it was your idea,” he says standing up and tucking himself back into his pants and zipping up._ **

**_Ian just laughs as he gets out of his pants, uses his boxers to clean up and puts his pants back on._ **

**_Ian sits down and gestures from him to sit between his legs. He hesitates for a moment, one of those times when it feels too girly, then sits down, letting Ian wrap his arms around his waist from behind. Within minutes, he relaxes and leans back against Ian’s chest. Who is he kidding, it feels fucking good._ **

**_Ian sniffs at his neck, something he is doing more and more, and then kisses him softly. “Any news on college, Mick?”_ **

**_“I’m going.” He smiles at Ian over his shoulder._ **

**_“You got a scholarship, Mick? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”_ **

**_“Tellin’ you now. Got offered two full scholarships—one to UCLA and one to Chicago School of Art.”_ **

**_“Congrats Mick. I told you could do it. Which one you gonna accept?”_ **

**_“Haven’t decided yet. Want to go to UCLA, but I have to think of Mandy. And staying in Chicago means I can look out for her_ ** **and _go to college.”_**

**_“Yeah Mick,” Ian says, voice suddenly dull, “I understand. You gotta look after your family.”_ **

****

** June 15th 2012 **

I thought I was in a fucking dream when I went up on stage to collect my diploma. First Milkovich to graduate high school. Not admitting it to anyone, but I liked wearing the gown and cap. Mandy was cheering for me and Betty came too. Felt like I had family, especially with Mr. M clapping extra loud for me as well. 

I accepted the scholarship to UCLA and Mandy is happy for me. She wants me to go, and it’s a better college and the fine arts program is considered top 3 in the country. Plus it’s L.A. and well…Ian. Yeah, fucking stupid reason but it’s one of them. I know he’s not real, but maybe it's the universe’s way of telling me that’s where I need to go. Like it’s fate or something. Maybe the reason I’ve been dreaming of Ian all these years is so I would choose L.A and it’s going to change my life. Be an artist. Be fucking free. Without Ian, I probably wouldn’t have been able to admit I was gay. Probably would have hated myself, and been ashamed. I know I’m not all the way there yet—you know, to acceptance - but I’m well on the way. So maybe I have Ian to thank for a lot of good shit in my life.

Speaking of good shit—Mr. M gave me a graduation gift and his cell number. Said I can call any time for any reason. That we can be friends now that I’m not his student anymore. I had trouble getting any words out. Had this lump in my throat, but I think he knows how much I appreciate what he’s done for me. I’ll miss those Monday afternoons. The gift was way too expensive. It was a full set of brushes, really good quality and in a soft leather case with M.M embossed on the front. I mean, fuck! What do you say to that? I told him it was too much, and he shouldn’t have spent his money on me. I told him I ain’t got nothing to give him but my art so I signed a painting—one of his favourites - and told him I hope it's worth something one day.

As if I wasn’t struggling enough at holding off the tears, Betty put $1000 in my bank account to cover the cost of getting to L.A and for food and shit til I get a job. When she told me she was proud of me, I lost my shit; cried and let her hug me. She felt warm and soft - just how I remember my Mom feeling when I was a little kid. I’m secretly working on a painting for her, which I’ll give to her when I leave.

** July 9th 2012 **

**_It’s a warm night and they are considering laying out on the baseball field. Ian’s been hyped up every time Mickey’s seen him for the last couple of months, and while it was fun in the beginning, now he’s wondering if something is wrong. He’s worried Ian is taking drugs, like heavy drugs. They move from the dugout, out onto the field, and Ian starts acting out a baseball game—commentating as he goes—from hitting the ball to running the bases. He sits down in the middle of the field and watches, trying to figure out what he should say._ **

**_“Hey army, come sit your ass down. You’re acting like you’re smoking meth or somethin’.”_ **

**_Ian throws his head back and laughs loudly, like it’s the funniest fucking joke ever told. This is not the Ian he knows and loves. And he’s worried. Ian jogs over and throws himself down on the grass._ **

**_“Ian, I’m fuckin’ serious. You smoking meth?”_ **

**_“Fuck off Mick. Of course I’m not. I’m just fucking happy. You sound like everyone else, nagging the shit out of me. Don’t want to talk about it. I’m fucking horny. Jesus Christ Mick, why don’t we ever have any lube? Wanna fuck you so bad. Wanna feel my cock inside your sweet ass.”_ **

**_Mickey wants Ian, but not like this. It doesn’t seem right. This isn’t his sweet, romantic Ian. This is like a different person. Ian suddenly pushes him onto his back, straddles him and starts rolling his hips. Despite himself, his cock is immediately interested in Ian’s ass sliding and grinding against it, and he moans in response._ **

**_“You like that, Mick? Wish all my lap dance customers looked like you. I’d be fucking cumming in my pants all night.”_ **

**_Mickey grabs hold of Ian’s hips and stops him from moving. “The fuck you just say?”_ **

**_“Wish my lap dance customers-”_ **

**_“I heard what the fuck you said. What do you mean, customers? Who the fuck you giving lap dances to?” Mickey sits up and pushes Ian off him. He’s fucking pissed and Ian seems to think it’s funny._ **

**_“I got a job at a club. Dancing. Get $25 bucks for every lap dance. But most of them are old fucks, so it’s pretty gross. Money is fucking good though.”_ **

**_“Ian, you’re fuckin’ sixteen. I don’t want you doing that shit.”_ **

**_“Mick why you acting like a psycho? You’re not my fucking Dad.”_ **

**_“Maybe I fuckin’ should be. Wouldn’t be doing that shit if I was.”_ **

**_Ian gets up and starts walking away from him towards the dugout. “Where the fuck you think you’re going?” Mickey gets up and strides after him. This is the first time they’ve had a serious argument, and he feels scared. Seeing Ian walk away from him triggers something deep inside him. His breathing becomes laboured, and he feels like he’s spiralling out of control._ **

**_Mickey catches up to Ian at the dugout and grabs him by the shoulder, spinning him around. He doesn’t know what to say so they just look at each other; chests rising and falling as they struggle to breathe._ **

**_Ian’s eyes finally soften, and his brows knit in regret, “I’m sorry Mick.”_ **

**_“I’m sorry too.”_ **

**_Then Ian is on him so fast it knocks the breath out of him. It’s frantic and desperate and so fucking good. He wants to be to be in, on, over, and part of Ian. They kiss and grab roughly at each other. Ian latches onto his neck and he’s sucking hard, so hard it’s almost painful and Mickey realises he is giving him a hickey and he loves it. They both work each other’s belts and zips then jeans and boxers are falling around their ankles. Mickey tries to get Ian’s cock in his hand, but Ian has other ideas and drops to his knees, sucking another hickey into his stomach and then his inner thigh just below his balls._ **

**_When Ian swallows his cock and sticks a finger in his mouth at the same time, he thrusts forward unable to contain himself. Ian is just moaning around his cock, eyes closed in pleasure as he slides up and down. He runs his hands through the fiery red hair and watches Ian’s mouth take him apart._ **

**_Ian removes the finger from his mouth and slips it up between his butt cheeks until its massaging his rim._ **

**_“Oh fuck Ian, fuck, please.”_ **

**_Ian pushes his finger in and while it stings a little without lube, Mickey doesn’t care because part of Ian is inside him, and his cock is in Ian’s mouth. Before long, Ian is fucking him with his finger and rubbing over his prostate. His orgasm erupts before he can stop it, Ian sucking his cock through each pulse. It radiates all over his body and he can only imagine how intense this would feel if it was Ian’s cock; filling him up, rubbing at his sweet spot and cumming inside him._ **

**_Mickey pulls Ian up off the ground and kisses him. It’s all tongue, and wet, and the taste of his own cum mixed in with cigarette’s and peppermint. He drops to his knees and blows Ian with everything he’s got - his lust, his love, his hopes and dreams, his need to protect and his want to be loved. He’s trying to make Ian understand what he means to him, so when Ian moans ‘Mickey, baby’ when he orgasm’s, it ignites a warmth in his chest that radiates out to every part of his body._ **

****

** July 10th 2012 **

I’m sitting on my bed and I’m sweating and shaking and I don’t know what the fuck to do. Don’t know who I can tell or talk to about this. I was all sorted in my head about my dreams of Ian - what it was, what it meant and now… now I don’t know. I’m back to thinking I’m crazy.

Had a dream about him last night. We had a big fight and then we blew each other. It was kind of rough because of the fight and Ian was giving me hickeys, which he’s never done before. This morning when I got up to shower I looked in the mirror and there was this big ass hickey on my neck. Yeah, fucking explain that? I can’t give myself a hickey on my own fucking neck, now can I? So I pull down my boxers and there’s two more—one on my lower stomach and one on my inner thigh—right where Ian put them in the dream. I can’t explain this shit.

I realised I didn’t get to tell him about UCLA either. I know he thought I was going to choose Chicago cos of Mandy. 

** August 8th 2012 **

**_Mickey had spent hours sitting under the bleachers waiting for Ian, so when the sun sets, he stands up and starts walking around to the field. He did this when he first arrived too—wondering if Ian was up in the grandstand, or on the other side of the field. At first, he thought Ian was playing some stupid joke and hiding from him. He went around calling out his name and every nickname he could think of. Then he tried threatening him if he didn’t show his fucking face._ **

**_Mickey didn’t understand why he was here if Ian wasn’t and he felt sick in his stomach. It felt like something was wrong, but his mind refused to go there. He couldn’t. It’s already been a month since he’s seen Ian and he misses him._ **

****

** September 12th 2012  **

I’m sitting on a plane on my way to L.A. My first time on a plane and it’s scaring the shit out of me. Feel like I’m going to throw up every time there’s turbulence or the plane changes direction. Everyone else is acting like they are taking a fucking bus ride, but they’ve probably been on heaps of flights before.

Saying goodbye was fucking hard man. Think maybe I am a pussy, probably always was, and that’s why Terry hated me. Hates me. I met up with Mr. M yesterday. His name is Matthew and he said to call him Matt from now on. That’s going to take some getting used to after four years. We have the same initials. Don’t know why that makes me laugh, but it does. We met at a café for lunch—real fucking grown up if you ask me—and we talked for a while about what college will be like. I asked him a lot of questions I’ve always wanted to ask - like how long he’s been with his boyfriend? Is he ok with being gay? Is he happy? He told me they met five years ago and they really want to get married one day if it’s ever legalised. I’m happy for him and maybe one day I might have that too. Then he asked me if I had a boyfriend yet. I was honest and said no but I didn’t tell him the boy in my dreams has my heart. 

Last night Mandy came around and had dinner with Betty and me and then stayed late playing video games. I kind of had it in my head that I wanted to come out to her - that it was important I did it in person before I left. So I did. I wasn’t sure how she would react. She was a bit shocked at first but then she started teasing the shit out of me and then she hugged me and told me she loved me. Oh, and to find a nice guy who’ll give it to me good up the ass. Such a fucking bitch. I love Mandy, and I told her too. I think that’s the first time we said it to each other and I’m fucking glad we did. I told her I’m going to try to save enough money for her to come and visit in L.A. Going to miss that smart mouth of hers. 

Betty dropped me at the airport. Neither of us spoke much on the ride there. How do you thank someone who basically saved your life? She was the one who noticed I had talent, the one who got Mr M—Matt—to look after me in high school, who took me in when Terry would have fucking ruined my chances. 

She told me to call all the time and to let her know if I needed any money, and that I could come home whenever I wanted. Home. That’s what she said—home. I told her about the painting I left for her, wrapped up in the studio, and she started to cry. So I hugged her fast and said, ‘thanks for being the closest thing to a Mom I ever had’ and walked away. Fucking cried all the way to the boarding gate. 

****

** September 17th 2012 **

**_Mickey doesn’t know how many more of these dreams he can cope with. It’s late and the dugouts—the place he most loves being with Ian—just feel empty. He feels empty. But he sits and waits. And waits. He lights up another smoke and looks over the baseball field, thinking back to the time Ian brought a blanket and they laid out under the stars, smoking and drinking together. What he’d give to do that again. This time he’d kiss him and kiss him, and maybe tell Ian how he feels._ **

**_It's been over two months now. Mickey thinks loneliness is empty bench seats, smokes not shared, cold untouched lips and words unspoken. Mickey craves Ian’s hands and mouth, his smile and dorky laugh. He wants, and he misses._ **

****

** September 21st 2012 **

Haven’t dreamt of Ian for over two months and it's fucking distracting me. I should be enjoying starting college, but it’s always on my mind. But enough of that sad fucking shit.

The art department is insane—the facilities are so fucking good—and so far, I like the professors. Professor Halliday is my favourite. She teaches art history and she’s the most sarcastic bitch I ever seen. The way she roasts students that don’t know shit. Never been more thankful for Matt teaching me about art history and the importance of knowing about it if you want to be an artist.

I got a single dorm room and I love it. It’s all mine and it helps me recharge when I’m feeling overwhelmed—which I am sometimes. I put up a few drawings and a painting I brought with me. Most of them are of Ian. I like lying in my bed and looking at them before I go to sleep. 

Most of the other students are ok. Lot of privileged pricks, but there are plenty of off-beat quirky people. Never been around people like that before, but I like that they don’t just do what everyone else is doing. They don’t give a shit what you think of them. Some of them dress weird—crazy fashion that don’t make sense to me—and I already met some openly gay guys and some lesbians. Some of them wear ‘pride’ buttons or rainbow slogans on their clothes. Not sure if I’d ever feel comfortable doing that, but if they are, then I say fucking go for it. It’s a different world here. Long way from Southside.

I got a job waiting tables at a local café. It’s shit pay, but it’s not a bad place to work. Figured out if I’m nice to the customers, I get better tips—so I’m getting better at faking it. I work weekends and one weeknight at the moment. Going to see if that’s enough money to get by on—don’t want to fall behind in my schoolwork.

I call Mandy and Betty every few days and I’ve spoken to Matt once. There’s a fuckton of parties, but I haven’t been out yet. Not ready for that shit.

** October 8th 2012 **

I turned into a certified nut job today so just lock me up in the psych ward. First Sunday I didn’t have a shift at the café, so I spent the day roaming around Long Beach. Went to a couple of beaches—didn’t recognise the one from my dreams—then I looked around some poorer areas. It all looked like the area Ian apparently lives in, but I didn’t find the park or the high school where the outdoor basketball courts are. Guess it’s a big area and I could have been looking in the wrong place. 

As I said, just lock me up, those places in my dreams can’t be real places in Long Beach because I never been there before. My brain doesn’t know what something looks like if I haven’t been there—it would just be what my brain thinks it looks like. I want to tell myself to shut the fuck up!! I sound like a rambling old drunk. Did I secretly think I might spot a freckle-faced six-foot-tall red-head walking down the street—you bet your fucking ass I did. Stupid fucking idiot. Guess that’s why I’m on my fifth beer and I’m not slowing down.

** October 19th 2012 **

**_Mickey is walking the beach; up and back and up and back. He can’t take much more of this, it’s too fucking painful. Where the fuck is Ian? Is he dead? Can he even be ‘dead?’ Is he just gone? He stops and looks out over the water. This has to stop; he doesn’t want to be here—not in this place that belonged to them._ **

**_Mickey walks back up the beach and slumps down onto the sand in the same place they once laid side by side together. When was that? Maybe a year or more back. He remembers holding Ian’s hand and feeling happy with the sun shining down on his face._ **

**_Now he’s out of Southside and in college. He fucking made it, just like Ian said he would, and where is that ginger fuck? Mickey wants to tell him about it—what it’s like living on his own, the people he’s met, what art projects he’s working on and being free of Terry. He wants to share it all with him. Ian._ **

****

** November 5th 2012 **

College is going good. Getting a lot of interest from my professors—especially for my painting, and I’m enjoying learning about digital art. I’m way behind on it, but I like it and I’m catching up fast. Made a friend—Eden—and she’s been helping me with it and she’s fucking funny. She tells me she’s an intersectional feminist and I have no fucking idea what that is and she’s gay and she doesn’t take shit from anyone. She hates her name because her parents are—and I quote—‘indoctrinated fanatical Christians’ who like the Garden of Eden story so much they named her Eden, her sister Eve and her brother Adam. I thought she was taking the piss, but apparently not. 

Her parents won’t talk to her because she’s a lesbian - committing a sin and going to hell. Eden says they pray for her every Sunday morning in church and her response to that is to make sure she’s eating pussy at the exact same time. 

I already came out to her and told her some stuff about Terry. It’s good to have someone to talk to about this shit, someone who understands. Feels good to have a friend. Even if she keeps trying to get me to go to parties and get laid. Told her I’m trying to get over someone first, so she’s backed off. 

** November 24th 2012 **

**_He heard a noise, a bottle smashing. Mickey runs up the stairs of the abandoned building and yells his name, “Ian…Ian…” It has to be him. No one else comes here. He reaches the top of the stairs and hurls himself into the large open space they always hang out in. His eyes scan the room as he listens carefully. The beating of his heart pulses through his head and his breathing sounds loud in the large empty space._ **

**_“Fuck,” he mutters, tears prickling at his eyes._ **

**_Nothing. No Ian. Nobody._ **

**_Disappointment washes over him and he feels like he’s suffocating, drowning in it. Did he imagine the sound? Has it come to that? He realises this is what desperation feels like. Has Ian abandoned him after six years? Six fucking years! Is Ian perhaps somewhere else looking for him. Right now, is Ian at the dugouts or the bleachers searching as frantically as Mickey?_ **

**_Mickey walks over to a wall and slides down until he’s sitting. And then he sees it. On the wall on the other side of the room. He’s crying before he can even consider trying to stop it. The pain is coming from deep inside him, the sound of his sobbing echoing off the concrete walls._ **

**_He clambers up to his feet and slowly approaches, wiping his face with his sleeve as he tries to stop crying. It’s written in blue, maybe with chalk. He reaches out. “Ian,” he whispers as his fingers trace the letters. He smiles as he traces over the heart underneath it, and finally he steps back and mouths ‘Mickey.’ Ian loves Mickey._ **

**_Ian’s been here when he wasn’t and he doesn’t know what that means. And he doesn’t know how long it’s been here, but his chest feels tight and his heart is hammering against his ribs. Tears continue to roll down his cheeks as he stars at it and reads it over and over again. Ian loves Mickey. Ian loves Mickey. Ian loves Mickey._ **

**_Mickey loves Ian too._ **

**_\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

**_*Just because I thought a visual might be nice..._**

[Click here to see the message Ian left Mickey in the abandoned building](https://i.ibb.co/59JDzz2/IAN-LOVES-MICKEY.jpg)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading - I hope you are enjoying it! Sorry for the angst but let's face it, it will make it sweeter in the end ;)
> 
> PLEEEEEEASE LEAVE A COMMENT - I would love to know your thoughts on Mickey's development, or which diary entry or dream you liked in this chapter.  
> KUDOS so very much appreciated.
> 
> I hope you are safe wherever you are in the world! Take care!!  
> Rachael x


	7. December 2012 - June 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Select dreams and diary entries from December 2012 - June 2013
> 
> Mickey is still 18 and Ian turns 17 in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strap in this is a bit of a roller coaster!!   
> PLEASE READ THE NOTES AT THE END

** December 12th 2012 **

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the dream and the message on the wall, so I rang Mandy and asked her if she would go to that abandoned building and see if my name was there. She wanted to know why, but I couldn’t think of a good lie. Telling her I was gay was one thing, telling her about my imaginary dream boyfriend was definitely not on the cards! In the end, she said it was too dangerous to go—too many junkies squatting there. I know there’s no way it’s actually there, but I wanted to know for sure so I could let it go. It’s been five months since I’ve dreamt of him. It feels as bad as if someone died in real life. I need to face that he’s gone, and I need to grow the fuck up and let go of the fantasy.

A couple of days ago I saw two guys standing together on the other side of the quad area and one was short with sort of curly blonde hair and the other was tall with red hair just like Ian’s. They were facing the other direction, so I couldn’t see their faces. My fucking heart skipped a beat. I seriously thought it was Ian. I jumped up and started walking across the quad, but they were already heading around a corner. By the time I got there, they were gone. I think it was the moment I realised I had to get my shit together. I’m one step away from hallucinating Ian into existence!

After that I called Matt because I just needed to hear his voice. When he talks about Jonathon—that’s his partner - it makes me want that for myself. Of course, I’m eighteen and should be out fucking guys and enjoying getting my dick wet. Matt could tell I was down, so he started questioning me. Ended up telling him I haven’t fucked (or been fucked) by a guy yet. He told me to get Grindr, go to parties or clubs and experiment a bit. Then he followed that up with a safe sex lecture—once a teacher always a teacher. He’s fucking right though; this is getting embarrassing. Plus, I’m horny ALL the fucking time.

** December 19th 2012 **

Last night Eden dragged me along to a campus LGBT+ Christmas party! Yeah, they have LGBT+ events and parties on campus—you can even join some clubs—who would have fucking thought?! It was an eye opener. So many hot dudes; tight clothes, no tops, some had glitter and shit on them, dancing (ie grinding, groping), making out in front of each other and it wasn’t even a club, just a regular party. 

I got pretty hammered so when Eden left with some girl she just met, I started scanning the room for potential candidates to follow through with Matt’s advice. Took me all of five minutes to spot a blonde guy across the room who looked like he wanted to eat me. Turned out he not only wanted to, he did! It felt so fucking good, way better than I imagined. Then I bent him over and fucked him. I lasted like two fucking minutes. He was so goddamn tight, way tighter than a girl’s pussy. The guy said he was verse and wanted to flip fuck, but something held me back. I’ve got to stop that shit and let someone fuck me. My own fingers up my ass isn’t doing it for me anymore. I’ve considered buying a dildo online. I have some money saved and I am seriously considering it!! The sex was good and I’m glad I did it. Now I’ve done it once, hopefully I can make it more regular. Can’t lie though—I felt like shit all day today. Ian was never far from my thoughts.

** December 21st 2012 **

**_As Mickey approaches the baseball field, he shivers violently, then goosebumps explode all over his body. It’s a warm night and he knows, simply knows, Ian is there. He climbs the fence like a madman, almost falling off as he rushes over the top. And there he is - sitting on the bench, staring straight ahead, eyes dull. He has bags under his eyes, and he looks pale, pale even for Ian. Mickey feels a mix of relief, happiness, fear and anger—each emotion arriving only to be pushed away by the next one._ **

**_“Where the fuck have you been, Ian?” he asks, his voice breaking over Ian’s name._ **

**_Ian just stares at him and Mickey doesn’t understand what’s going on. He feels panicked. He steps closer, wanting to touch Ian, but too afraid. “Are you sick?” he tries again, softer this time._ **

**_“I’m sorry, Mick,” Ian finally answers, head dropping down._ **

**_“Hey,” he says as he sits down and gently lifts Ian’s chin, so they are looking at each other. “Talk to me, I’ve been fuckin’ worried. It’s been over five months.”_ **

**_“Couldn’t help it. I thought of you. A lot.”_ **

**_He pulls Ian into a tight hug, stroking the back of Ian’s neck and getting lost in his familiar smell. Ian responds by wrapping his arms around Mickey’s waist and relaxing his head down onto his shoulder._ **

**_“Fuck, I missed you.” His words are muffled as he speaks into Ian’s neck, not wanting to separate his lips from the skin he loves._ **

**_Ian pulls away and looks at him with this raw, heartbreaking sadness. “Mick, you should forget about me. I’m no use to anyone anymore.”_ **

**_“What the fuck are you talking about Ian? Fuckin’ tell me what you’ve been doing. Where you’ve been for the last five months.”_ **

**_Ian makes a huff noise through his nose and shakes his head. “It’s a fucking long story, Mick.”_ **

**_“Well I’ve got fucking time.”_ **

**_Ian sits back and pulls his knees up to his chest, then wraps his arms around his legs. “I’m bipolar. Fucking insane like my Mom.”_ **

**_“What the fuck is bipolar?” Mickey has no idea what bipolar is, and it makes him feel out of control._ **

**_“It’s a mental illness. Means I go fucking crazy hyped-up and do risky shit then fall into a depression where I can’t get out of bed.”_ **

**_Mickey thinks about Ian being hyped-up on the beach that time and blowing each other right there on the sand, and Ian running bases out on the field and talking way too fast. “You were acting all hyped the last few times I saw you.”_ **

**_“Yeah cos I was manic then, just didn’t know it. I stole a car. Thought it’d be fun, you know—go on a joy ride, see how fucking fast I could go. Except there was a baby in the back seat. Didn’t even see it. Was lucky I didn’t crash the car and kill the baby. Got arrested for kidnapping. Judge could see there was something wrong and did a psych evaluation, and then they committed me for three months.”_ **

**_“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Ian. They put you in a psych ward for three fuckin’ months?”_ **

**_“Yep. I kept trying to leave and they kept sedating me. Then they sent me home with a shitload of drugs to take every day for the rest of my fucking life.”_ **

**_“So where have you been the last two months?”_ **

**_“I didn’t want to take the fucking meds, they make me feel numb. Dead. So I flushed them down the toilet and lied to my family about taking them, and then I fell into a depression. Couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t eat, wanted to die.”_ **

**_Nausea grips Mickey’s stomach and his vision blurs. It’s all too fucking much. Ian saying he wants to die fucking terrifies him like nothing ever did before. Not even Terry._ **

**_Mickey grabs Ian’s bicep and holds him hard, “Don’t ever fuckin’ say that again, Ian.” And he’s not joking. He can handle a lot of shit, but Ian thinking about offing himself isn’t one._ **

**_“Yeah well, Fi said she would get me committed again if I didn’t go back on the meds, so I did. They’re just starting to work, but I still feel numb. Hate them, Mick. They said they’ll keep adjusting them until I get a better balance, but…”_ **

**_“Ian you need to suck it up, man. Take your fuckin’ pills so you get better.”_ **

**_Ian stands up and walks to the fence, looking out over the field. “Mick, did you get my message?”_ **

**_Mickey stands up and walks over to stand beside him. “What message?”_ **

**_“In our building. On the wall.”_ **

**_“Yeah, I got it. Loved it,” he says as he reaches out and tugs on Ian’s shirt to pull him closer. “When did you do it?”_ **

**_“Months ago, just before I kidnapped the baby. You weren’t fucking there, and I was pissed. Ran around the entire building and then I found some of that sidewalk chalk. Maybe some kids left it there. Hoped you would see it.”_ **

**_Ian gives him just a hint of a smile, and that gives Mickey hope. He leans in and presses his lips to Ian’s. It’s just a quick peck, soft and gentle, but it’s more than enough for the time being._ **

**_“You back in school?”_ **

**_“Been a few days, but there’s no fucking point anymore. Can’t go to Westpoint, can’t join the Army. My way out, my dream is fucking gone, Mick.”_ **

**_Mickey watches tears fill up in Ian’s eyes and he thinks this is better than not feeling anything at all. Ian turns away from him, “Mick, what am I gonna do with my life?”_ **

**_Mickey reaches out and places a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “You’ll find another dream, Ian. I’ll help you.”_ **

**_Ian turns sharply, shoving Mickey’s hand away, pain and anger in his voice, “What’s the fucking point of anything? I’m fucked up. Broken. Just like my Mom. No one’s ever gonna want me. Love me.”_ **

**_Mickey almost laughs at the absurdity of Ian’s thoughts. No one will want him? Love him? He almost feels angry because what have they been doing for the last six years if not loving each other? Mickey wonders for a second if he hasn’t made it clear, these feelings he has for Ian. The intense want he has, the love that gets stronger with every passing year._ **

**_He takes a deep breath, then steps in and cradles Ian’s face in both of his hands, “Ian, I will. I will always love you.”_ **

**_Ian blinks his eyes and furrows his brow, perhaps trying to gauge if he’s telling the truth or not. Mickey smiles at him and strokes his thumb across Ian’s cheek._ **

**_Ian finally asks, “You love me?”_ **

**_“Course I do.”_ **

**_A hesitant smile appears on Ian’s face. “I love you too, Mickey. So fucking much.”_ **

** January 8th 2013 **

Haven’t written in here for a while. I couldn’t really afford to go home for Christmas, so I stayed on campus and I had a great fucking time. I rang Betty, Mandy and Matt on Christmas day and other than Betty crying because she missed me it was ok. Spent almost every day with Eden, who wasn’t welcome home unless she gave up lesbianism. Hey, her words, not mine. She’s a fucking funny bitch. We spent our days painting, drinking, eating, watching movies and smoking the occasional joint. Never had a friend like her, and it’s a hell of a lot better than I imagined it would be. We laugh all the time and can sit in the same room and not speak, and it’s comfortable. 

The first time she came over to my dorm room she immediately noticed all the drawings and paintings of Ian I have on the walls. I told her he was my ex from back in Chicago and he was the reason I wasn’t fucking or dating anyone. It turned out pretty good cos now I can mention Ian whenever I want, which is the first time I’ve been able to talk about him with someone else.

Today I had some fucking fantastic news—every year they select ten students to create a three-piece series for the art department annual exhibition. The exhibition is in June and it’s at a gallery in downtown L.A. Only the top seniors, and the occasional junior ever get selected. Until today. I got picked!!! No one can even remember the last time a freshman was selected. I’m fucking nervous about it, but I’m excited too. I have no idea what I’m going to paint yet—so thank fuck I have until June. As soon as I find out I rang Betty and Matt to tell them. Hearing how happy they were for me made me feel good about myself. I’m doing good here. 

****

** January 19th 2013 **

**_They’ve built a fire in the abandoned building like they did a few years earlier and are both smiling as they look at the ‘Ian loves Mickey’ on the wall. Mickey picks the blue chalk up off the ground and traces over it as it’s already starting to fade. He wants it to be there forever. When he finishes, they sit back down around the fire, hands out, as they warm up again._ **

**_“Mickey, tell me about college? You haven’t said anything. Do you love it?”_ **

**_“Yeah, I love it but that’s not important right now. What’s important is how you’re feeling. You still taking your meds every day?”_ **

**_Mickey knows Ian gets moody when he asks, but he has to fucking ask. He doesn’t want Ian manic or depressed, especially depressed because that scares the shit out of him._ **

**_“Yes, Mickey, I’m taking my meds,” Ian almost whines._ **

**_“Are you feeling any better after they adjusted your meds last week? Like not as numb?”_ **

**_“Yeah, I think this one is better. But still can’t get it up. I’m fucking limp dick.”_ **

**_“Ian, who gives a shit if you can’t get it up right now. They told you it might take some time, so give it some fuckin’ time.”_ **

**_Mickey realises that Ian feels embarrassed. They haven’t done anything sexual in the time Ian’s been back. Ian has offered to blow him, but he’s said no every time. It just doesn’t seem right if they both can’t get off. He can put his own needs aside; Ian needs a friend right now._ **

**_“What about school?” he says to change the subject. “You going every day? You catching up?”_ **

**_“Fuck Mickey, you’re not my Dad. Yes, I’ve been going, and Lip is helping me catch up on what I missed.”_ **

**_“You been making a list of things you like doing and could make a career out of?”_ **

**_Ian rolls his eyes, “Fuck off, Mick. I’m still a junior - I have time to think of something.”_ **

**_Mickey realises Ian has had enough of twenty questions, so he changes his tactic. “Ok, I’ll stop with the fucking questions. Come here.” He grabs hold of Ian’s shirt as he opens his legs. Ian shuffles over so he’s seated between his legs, then Mickey wraps his arms around Ian from behind._ **

**_They are quiet for a while, listening to the crackling of the fire. It will go out soon and then it will be cold again. Mickey presses his lips to the back of Ian’s neck then squeezes him around the waist. Ian laughs lightly, and it’s so nice to hear. Mickey wants nothing more than to see Ian smile and to hear that dorky laugh._ **

**_“Fuck Mick, you nearly suffocated me.”_ **

**_“Don’t want to lose you again.” It’s raw, and it’s honest and there isn’t a trace of humour in it._ **

**_Ian places his hands over the top of Mickey’s. “I don’t want to lose you either,” Ian whispers._ **

**_“I love you, you know that, right?”_ **

**_“Yeah. I love you too.”_ **

****

** February 1st 2013 **

So I got a huge fucking surprise this week when Mandy turned up to stay for mid-winter break. Turns out Betty had bought Mandy a return airfare as a Christmas present. The bitch made me sleep on the floor cos she wanted the bed, but truth is, I didn’t fucking care cos I was so happy to see her. Mandy and Eden hit it off straight away, and we all went out a few times and hung out on campus. The two of us talked late into the night, and I was glad to hear Terry wasn’t bothering her too much. Mandy, being Mandy, spent two nights with two different guys. She looked good—you know healthy—and she seemed happy. She has dinner with Betty every Sunday and Matt checks in with her at school. Knowing the two of them are looking out for her stops me from stressing all the time.

Perhaps the highlight of the trip for Mandy was finding my vibrating dildo. She’s never going to let it go. The teasing was fucking relentless. When I got it in the mail a few weeks ago I was scared to use it. It was seven inches and thick, but then I thought about how Ian’s dick is nine inches and thick. I knew if I didn’t like the seven inches, I sure as shit wasn’t going to like nine. The first time it hurt. Think I tried to rush the prep and wasn’t relaxed enough. Second time was much better, and I came like a motherfucker. After the third time, I was hooked. Feel more confident now. I think I’m ready to let someone fuck me. Just as soon as I get over feeling like I’d be cheating on Ian. 

****

** February 17th 2013 **

**_Mickey is in a house. A fucking expensive, beautiful house. He’s in the kitchen—which is huge—and he’s looking out into the yard, which has a pool and an outdoor entertainment area. He hears ‘Mickey, baby, are you coming?’ from somewhere else in the house and he swears it sounds like Ian._ **

**_Making his way out of the kitchen he wanders down a hall towards the voice, noting the high ceilings, antique floorboards and old-fashioned decorative shit. There are also paintings on the walls, and they look like his, but way better._ **

**_He stops in front of a gold-framed mirror and almost fucking screams like a girl. He knows it’s him, but it’s also not him. This guy, this man, is maybe in his early to mid-30s. But the hair is the same, and the eyes looking back at him are his eyes. Lips are the same too. But there are some faint lines across the forehead and around the eyes. He leans in closer and pulls a few faces—the reflection imitating him in perfect unison._ **

**_“Babe, hurry up the movie’s starting.”_ **

**_He continues down the hallway and comes across a giant living room with the largest tv screen he’s ever seen. The furniture—the sofas, the rugs, the coffee table—all look like works of art. On the chaise lounge is a man with fiery red hair._ **

**_Mickey is contemplating what he should do when the man turns and looks over his shoulder at him._ **

**_“Mick, what the fuck are you doing just standing there? The movie’s started and the popcorn’s getting cold. Lily’s already been asleep for thirty minutes.”_ **

**_Mickey walks toward the chaise lounge, his eyes wide as he takes in a thirty-something year old Ian. Ian who has aged like a fine wine with a strong jaw, light beard, faded freckles and muscles rippling under his tight t-shirt. He’s hot as fuck._ **

**_Taking a seat next to Ian, he studies his profile for a few seconds before Ian turns those green eyes on him._ **

**_“You’re acting fucking weird, Mick. You worried about your deadline for the L.A. exhibition?”_ **

**_“Nah, just got a headache,” he says, not able to think of a better lie._ **

**_“You want me to get you some painkillers?” Ian says, touching his palm to his forehead to check his temperature._ **

**_“I’ll be fine. What have I missed?”_ **

**_“Sit here babe,” Ian says, spreading his legs on the chaise lounge and motioning for Mickey to sit there._ **

**_Even in his shocked state, he doesn’t hesitate to get closer to this Ian. Mickey leans back against Ian’s chest and melts when arms wrap around his waist. When Ian threads their fingers together, he notices the ring on Ian’s hand and becomes aware there’s one on his own._ **

**_Ian whispers, ‘just relax’ in his ear. Mickey does the opposite of relax when Ian kisses up his neck - wet, open-mouthed kisses with the occasional tongue lapping at his skin._ **

**_“Mickey why do you always smell so good? Maybe if I make you cum, it will get rid of your headache.”_ **

**_Mickey hardens in his pants, then Ian slides a hand into his boxers and squeezes his cock. He lets his head lull back against Ian’s shoulder as he mutters ‘fuck’ under his breath._ **

**_When he turns his head, desperate to get Ian’s lips on his, he hears a baby cry._ **

**_“Oh shit. Mick, you just rest, I’ll go get her.”_ **

**_Ian scoots out from behind him, the crying baby—Lily?—getting louder by the second._ **

****

** February 18th 2013 **

I had the weirdest fucking dream last night. I was in this mansion with a pool and expensive furniture and shit and I was like thirty or older and Ian was there, and he was older too. Do I tell Ian about it? What the fuck would I say? Fuck, Ian was so hot—all filled out and buff—and had a beard. 

****

** February 28th 2013 **

Eden finally got me out to a gay bar. Eden said it’s her favourite club because it’s inclusive of everyone in the LGBT+ community—as opposed to just a gay bar or just a lesbian bar. Felt like a bit of a dick when I couldn’t tell if someone was trans—that shit is all new to me—but I want to learn. Being trans has got to be fucking tough. Eden told me that a trans person is more likely to get murdered. What the fuck is wrong with people? 

I went home with a guy, Jeremy, to his place. Told me he was twenty-seven and worked as a graphic designer. I’m kind of ashamed to say I went home with him because he was a redhead and he reminded me of Ian. He wasn’t as tall and had blue eyes not green, but he was an okay looking guy. I didn’t mind kissing him and he was gentle, so I told him to fuck me. I didn’t face him - we did it doggy—and I wanted it like that for the first time. Enjoyed it a lot more than topping. Jeremy’s dick was average—so a bit smaller than my dildo—and he prepped me slow. I think he realised I was nervous and maybe hadn’t bottomed before. He gave me his number and told me to call him if I wanted to hook up again. I told him I might, and I meant it. 

Was it bad that I fantasised that it was Ian pounding into me? It was easy to do since I wasn’t looking at him. Fuck, I need to get over Ian. Everything is going so good except for a relationship or just a regular fuck buddy—that’s all that’s missing. 

****

** March 5th 2013 **

**_Mickey passes his smoke to Ian then leans back on his elbows, the sun warming his face. They are at Ian’s outdoor basketball courts, high up in the bleachers. “You look better,” he says, watching Ian puff on the cigarette. Ian looks down at him and smiles, and it seems genuine and warm._ **

**_“I feel better,” Ian says, leaning back too. “Think I’m finally on the right cocktail of meds. The fog is clearing.”_ **

**_“That’s fuckin’ awesome man.” And it is. He can see traces of the old Ian and it makes him feel lighter._ **

**_“Think I know what I want to do after I finish school,” Ian says, a full smile spreading across his face. Mickey can see that Ian feels proud of himself, and he’s proud of Ian too._ **

**_“Well, don’t keep me is suspense. What the fuck is it?”_ **

**_“I wanna be a paramedic. Help people. I always remember the paramedics that came and saved my Mom, and I think I want to do that.”_ **

**_“It’s fuckin’ perfect for you, Ian,” he says as he reaches out and squeezes Ian’s forearm. And it is perfect. Perfect because when he met Ian as a ten-year-old boy he was sweet and caring and kind. That’s who Ian is, under the guard he puts up, under all the bullshit of his childhood and the damage of neglectful, selfish, fucked up parents. Mickey never thought the army suited Ian, just a stupid boyhood fantasy, but this is something he thinks Ian can be fucking good at._ **

**_“You think I’ll be good at it?” Ian asks, his insecurities written all over his face._ **

**_“You can save my ass any day.” He smirks at Ian, trailing his eyes up and down his body._ **

**_“And it’s an ass worth saving.” Ian leans across and kisses him hard. They make out for a while, getting handsy and heated, until Ian pulls away looking guilty._ **

**_“Ian, it’s ok. I don’t care. You’re half-way there.”_ **

**_“Mick you can’t fuck with a half-hard cock.”_ **

**_“But it’s progress. You said you’re feeling better and it will happen soon. Hey, I’ve got my bag. Let me draw you.” He opens his backpack and pulls out his sketchbook, placing it on Ian’s lap while he tries to find his pencils._ **

**_“Milk-o-vich.”_ **

**_Hearing his name, he stops to look at Ian, a frown on his face._ **

**_“Why the fuck have I never-” they both say at the same time, before Ian finishes, “known your surname?”_ **

**_They stare at each other for a few seconds, before Ian looks down at the sketchbook and rubs his finger across the ‘Mickey Milkovich’ written on the cover._ **

**_“It suits you. Mickey Milkovich,” Ian says, trying it on for size._ **

**_Mickey backhands Ian lightly across the chest, “So what the fuck’s your name then?”_ **

**_“Gallagher,” he says._ **

**_“Gallagher huh?” Mickey says it a few times in his head, getting a feel for it. “I think I fuckin’ like it. Now look that way Gallagher,” he says, pointing in the direction he wants Ian to look, “and don’t move while I sketch you.”_ **

****

** March 10th 2013 **

It’s spring break and all anybody wants to do is fuck. Heaps of people cleared out for the holiday and Eden went to Tijuana with her new girlfriend, Dani. They were all over each other, so I was kind of glad to get a break from it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for Eden and I hope it works out for them, but it just reminded me how that part of my life is messed up. I came all the way across the country so I could be a fag and not worry about hiding it, and there I was sitting in my dorm room thinking about someone that doesn’t even fucking exist. 

So yesterday I called Jeremy—that red-haired dude I hooked up with that one time—and we met up. In fact, I just got home this morning cos I stayed the night at his place. It wasn’t that I intentionally wanted to stay after we fucked, I just fell asleep. I woke up at about 4am and he was spooning me, and I was warm, and the bed was comfortable, so I just went back to sleep. He made me breakfast, and it was a bit awkward, but then he blew me before I left and asked me if I wanted to go out for dinner on the weekend. I said I’d let him know. He’s a decent dude and an okay lay, but that’s all. I know that I want a relationship, but he’s not the guy. There’s no way I can be with a redhead - it would just remind me of Ian all the time.

When I’m asleep, and in those dreams with Ian they feel real. They feel like they are actually happening to me and the effect lasts after I wake up—sometimes minutes, sometimes hours—before my brain starts to recognise them for what they are. I hate to say this, but I want them to stop. I can’t move on or have a normal life! I’m feeling frustrated and sometimes fucking angry at Ian—for being there and making me want him and love him—when I could be out finding something real. Sometimes I wish he never came back after those five months. Fuck, does that make me a horrible person?

** March 24th 2013 **

**_Mickey has been angry the past week, and he’s agitated and looking for a fight. He doesn’t doubt his love for Ian or Ian’s love for him, but there’s no fucking point and he doesn’t want this to go on anymore. Ian is doing better—he’s stable on his meds and he has a plan for the future._ **

**_They are on top of the abandoned building and Ian is talking about his younger brother Carl doing some crazy shit, but he’s only half listening until Ian says the most insane thing._ **

**_“You know I looked everywhere for this fucking building and couldn’t find it.”_ **

**_Mickey turns to look at Ian, “What the fuck do you mean you looked for this building? We’re at this building right now.”_ **

**_“I went to Chicago to look for you when I was on spring break.” Ian says it like its nothing; like buying a packet of smokes at the local store._ **

**_Mickey just stares at him, not knowing what the fuck to say to that. “What do you mean you went to Chicago? I’m in L.A. At UCLA.”_ **

**_Ian’s face falls, eyes wide with shock. “What?! I thought you went to Chicago School of Art. You said you got a scholarship and you wanted to stay near Mandy to look after her.”_ **

**_“Yeah I did, but in the end I decided on UCLA. I didn’t get to tell you and then you were gone and then when you came back, I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”_ **

**_Ian stands up and starts pacing, anger rising. “Mickey, I looked everywhere for you! No one had heard of you at college and then I went around Southside trying to find you. I found the dugout and the school bleachers.”_ **

**_Mickey stands up and grabs Ian by the shoulders to stop his incessant pacing, which is making him feel sick. “What the fuck Gallagher? How would you even find your way around Southside?” His voice is rising, his heart is racing, and his head is pounding._ **

**_“I remember some of it.”_ **

**_“From when? I’m gonna fuckin’ strangle you in a minute Ian if you don’t explain yourself.”_ **

**_“From when I lived there, Mick,” Ian says, pulling out of his grasp._ **

**_“Fucking hell, Ian! When. Did. You. Live. In. Southside?”_ **

**_“When I was a kid. We moved to Long Beach when I was about seven.”_ **

**_Mickey feels like the ground is shifting under him and tilting sideways. He sits back down to steady himself. He can feel Ian’s eyes on him, but he can’t look at him. A few minutes tick by and he realises he’s crying. More than that, he realises he’s done. He simply can’t do this anymore. It’s too fucking hard and too fucking painful, and it’s time to put an end to it. He wipes at his face with the sleeve of his jacket, then looks up into those green eyes. “Ian, I fuckin’ can’t do this anymore. I love you, but I need something real.”_ **

**_Ian frowns at him and shakes his head in disbelief, “What the fuck do you mean? It’s fucking real to me, Mickey! I love you!”_ **

**_Mickey can see Ian shatter right in front of him. It’s easy to recognise when you are experiencing the same thing. He stands up and flips Ian’s shirt collar back and forth a few times, unable to make eye contact. Taking a deep breath, he looks up and cradles Ian’s face, “I love you too. Always. But you gotta let me go, Ian. I just can’t.” He presses his lips to Ian’s, a tear falling when he closes his eyes. He turns and walks towards the stairwell, ignoring the broken, ‘Mickey don’t…’ as he descends into the darkness._ **

****

** April 13th 2013 **

I haven’t written in here for over three weeks cos I just couldn’t. Couldn’t put my thoughts down on paper. I told Ian I couldn’t see him anymore and that sounds fucking stupid, but I meant it—I couldn’t keep doing that to myself. I’ve been taking a sleeping tablet every night and it puts me out like a light. I don’t remember any dreams when I wake up—so if I’m having them, at least I don’t have to deal with them. I pulled down all the drawings and paintings of Ian and packed them away under my bed. I know I should probably throw them away, but I guess I’m not ready to do that just yet. Some days are better than others. I’ve spent a few nights crying and my chest literally fucking aches all the time. Eden thinks something bad has happened, and I hate lying to her, but what other choice do I have? I miss him. But this is the right thing, and I’ve got to stick to it.

Yesterday I met a guy at the café I work at. His name is Steve and he made me laugh, which is not easy to do. Eden had pinned a tiny rainbow flag badge on my shirt, telling me I should wear it every day to help me find a date, so I guess it worked. We aren’t going out on a date or anything, but he obviously saw the badge and that’s how we got to talking. 

He’s a few inches taller than me, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He has a great smile and didn’t annoy the fuck out of me. Said he was twenty and studying engineering so he can’t be a dumbfuck. We exchanged names and numbers and he wanted to follow me on insta, twitter, etc so he was surprised when I told him I didn’t have any social media. I’m not leaving a trail for Terry to find me, or to know what I’m doing. Steve’s already texted me a few times and I’m replying. We’ll see. Not ready yet. Maybe soon.

****

** May 16th 2013 **

My three paintings for the exhibition are almost complete and they are the best work I’ve ever done. I used all that fucking heartbreak and put it to good use. Matt used to always tell me to put myself into my work, and I truly did this time. My professors are happy with them, and Eden says they are fucking unbelievable. I took photos of them and sent them through to Betty and Matt so they could give me feedback—they both raved about them and told me I was becoming an artist. 

One is of Ian, one is a self-portrait, and one is of us together. The one of us together is exactly that—us together, naked in each other’s arms. I didn’t think I would ever have the courage to paint myself like that, exposing my sexuality and my feelings about another man, but it’s the most freeing experience of my life. It’s fucking beautiful and heartbreaking and raw—but it’s also the truth. And truth is what makes great art. It’s also my way of saying goodbye to Ian, my way of honouring him and the love I will always have for him.

It's nearly the end of my first year in college, and I’ve changed so fucking much. I don’t even think I look at the world the same way anymore. I didn’t realise how sheltered my childhood was. I thought because I had seen so much shit—drugs, drinking, criminal shit, violence, and lived in poverty—that it made me grown up, but all it did was shut me off from everything else. There are people outside of Southside who think differently and act differently and who accept me for me. People who love art and love fags.

Southside will always be a part of me, and the bullshit I’ve been through has made me a tough motherfucker—so I’m going to use that and make something of myself. And I’m going to help Mandy make something of herself too.

****

** June 12th 2013 **

Last night I went out and hooked up with a guy. I took what I wanted and then I left. When I came back to my dorm room, I put some of Ian’s drawings and paintings back up on the walls—just a few. Ian’s part of who I am and I wouldn’t be where I am right now without him. It flashed through my mind to google ‘Ian Gallagher’ but I stopped myself because I made a promise to let him go and move forward. 

Steve and I met up for coffee today. I told him it wasn’t a date—just two friends catching up. We’ve been texting a lot and I like the dude. Would be easy to just start fucking, but I think that going on a date first might be a good thing. We haven’t had the top/bottom/verse conversation yet, but he’s kind of hinted that he’s verse -which I can work with. I’m going to leave it to fate—if he asks me out again, I’ll say yes.

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * FIRST AND FOREMOST -Please don't hate me! I promise you the suffering is about to end and your patience shall be rewarded. If you have read any of my other fics you know I am a hopeless romantic - so romance is coming your way in buckets and my aim is make it very worth your while!
> 
> * The next two chapters (or possibly three - I may need to add a chapter because I'm already 5k into chapter 8 and not nearly done) will be in THIRD PERSON, PRESENT TENSE NARRATIVE. The final chapter may also be from Ian's POV but that is not set in stone. What I am saying is, the story will not be told through diary entries/dreams after this chapter so we can see it unfold as it happens!!! 
> 
> * I just wanted to mention - with regards to Mickey in this chapter - he is an 18 year old at college, finally able to live freely and he deserves a 'life.' He broke up with Ian because he believed he would never be able to have a relationship while Ian was still in his dreams. He had grown as a person through and with Ian - so much so that he wants that for real.
> 
> * If you are reading 'Dance Partners' I apologise for the delay in getting a new chapter to you. I am time poor right now - working longer hours trying to save my COVID affected business - so less time to write. I may decide to finish 'Dear fucking diary' first as the words are pouring out of me for this fic at the moment. 'Dance Partners' is very special to me and I want to get the last few chapters perfect - and it is complicated now as their family builds and expand. It will be finished shortly - be patient with me - it is all planned and half the final chapter is written already.
> 
> PLEASE LEAVE KUDOS AND COMMENTS IF YOU ARE ENJOYING THIS FIC.   
> Thank you for reading and I hope it is bringing some joy and entertainment into your life in these trying times.  
> Stay safe everyone!  
> Rachael x


	8. June 25th, 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers around 36 hours from early afternoon on June 25th onwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT PLEASE NOTE: this chapter is written from Mickey's POV in third person narrative. There are NO diary entries, however there is ONE DREAM that is, as always, in BOLD ITALIC. 
> 
> I truly hope you enjoy this chapter - it's close to 11 thousand words.

It’s the day before the exhibition opening and Mickey is sitting in a park just off campus writing in his journal. He pauses, thinking about Steve and the promise he made to himself if Steve asked him on a date again. Picking up his cell, he scrolls through their last few text messages, the final one asking Mickey to dinner on Sunday night. He hesitates, taps out his response, then changes his mind and deletes it.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, wondering why it is so hard for him to say yes. The guy is fucking hot and easy to talk to and there shouldn’t be anything to think about. Giving up on his journal writing, he packs it away in his backpack along with his cell. As he stands to leave, he spots someone jogging in his direction. Someone with fiery red hair, who’s tall and muscular and moves in a way he is intimately familiar with.

Mickey. Simply. Cannot. Move. He breaks out in a sweat while goosebumps ripple across his skin, making him shiver. It feels like someone has sucked all the oxygen out of the air. With his heart beating in triple time he wonders if he took too many sleeping tablets? Is he actually dreaming right now? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This redhead, this man that looks like Ian, _his_ Ian, is slowing down to a walk. There’s about fifty feet between them and if Mickey doesn’t do something soon, he will walk straight past him. The rush of adrenaline has left him feeling weak and unsteady. Trying desperately to think of something—anything—he can say to stop him, speak to him, he forces his legs to move forward toward the redhead.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” he says when they are about fifteen feet away. They lock eyes and the guy freezes. Mickey doesn’t know if the guy is reacting to his weird behaviour or not, so he tries again, “Do you know any places to get a coffee around here?” He takes a few steps closer and sees the freckles and the red eyelashes and those green eyes he’s spent years looking into. 

The guy looks scared shitless and nervously glances over his shoulder, as if planning his escape. Mickey realises he is probably coming across as some sort of sexual pervert. 

“Yeah, there’s a coffee shop down there,” the redhead says, pointing.

Mickey’s face flushes at the familiar sound of his voice, and he feels as if he might have to sit down right in the middle of the path. “I’m Mickey,” he stutters. All colour drains from the redhead’s face and Mickey moves two steps closer. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Yeah, I feel like it. You look a lot like someone I used to know. I’m Ian.”

Mickey feels his lower lip quivering, and he wonders if he is about to cry. His emotions are so heightened he cannot think straight. At this point he assumes he is in fact dreaming. There can be no other explanation. Or has he been dreaming about an actual person for all these fucking years? A person that is now standing before him, acting freaked out, but not saying anything. How do you tell a stranger you know them because you’ve been dreaming about them—when maybe they’ve never dreamt of you at all? Mickey doesn’t want to risk losing him now he’s found him, so he plays it cool. “Yeah it’s fucking weird. Feel like I know you too. You want to grab a coffee with me?”

Ian’s eyes are flittering over Mickey’s face and up and down his body. There is panic and fear in Ian’s eyes and neither of them are addressing their equally odd behaviour.

“Okay. I just need to grab my wallet. I’m apartment sitting at that building over there,” Ian says pointing, then heading off in that direction. Mickey stands there wondering if Ian wants him to follow or not, then Ian turns and says, “You coming? It will only take a minute, it’s on the ground floor.”

As they head across the park, Mickey tries to sneak some sideways glances without coming across as a perv. Trying to break the uncomfortable silence, he asks, “Are you in college?”

Ian glances at him, then back at the ground, “Nah, I just finished my junior year in high school. How bout you?”

“I go to UCLA. I’m an art major.” He swears he hears Ian’s breath hitch.

“My brother goes to UCLA too. He lives at Hedrick Hall.”

“I’m at Dykstra Hall.”

They enter the building and Ian opens the door to let them into the apartment. Mickey doesn’t know what the fuck to do and he needs a moment to think. “Hey, can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure, it’s just that door there on your right.”

Mickey puts his backpack down on the sofa and heads into the bathroom. He looks at himself in the mirror, his eyes are wild, and he looks like he ran a marathon—all sweaty and flushed. Turning on the cold water, he slaps some over his face to cool down. His legs are still shaking, and his thoughts are racing. He needs to calm the fuck down so he can think this through.

From the living room he hears Ian, “Mickey, do you have a smoke?”

“Yeah, in my backpack,” he yells back. Fuck, what if this guy is a thief or a psycho? What if I am dreaming all this? _Did_ I take too many sleeping tablets? If it is Ian, why isn’t he saying anything? Why the fuck aren’t I saying anything? He’s so beautiful. I just want to look at him. Touch him. This cannot be a coincidence. Maybe if his name was Joe or fucking Randy or some shit, but he’s Ian. Mickey takes a few slow, deep breaths, trying to get his heart rate back to normal before he exits the bathroom. 

Opening the door, he steps back out into the living room and there is Ian with his journal. Ian is reading his journal. He feels his stomach turn and he thinks he will throw up. “What the fuck?!” he yells, striding across the room, snatching the journal out of Ian’s hands. Grabbing his backpack he runs out of the apartment. 

He can hear Ian yell after him, “Mickey, stop. Wait! I can explain.”

But he doesn’t stop or wait. He runs all the way back to campus and back to the safety of his dorm room. He is dripping in sweat when he arrives and throws himself down on the bed. After five minutes, his breathing settles and his mind starts to clear. After ten minutes, he sits up and changes his shirt. After fifteen minutes, he realises he’s made a big fucking mistake. After twenty minutes, he contemplates going back. After twenty-five minutes, there’s a knock at the door.

It can’t be? Can it? He moves over to the door, braces himself and opens it. Ian’s hair is sweaty and flopping over onto his forehead, his face is flushed red and he’s clinging to a backpack. 

“How did you find me?” he asks.

“You told me what dorm and I just banged on doors until someone told me the room number.” Ian pushes himself into the room, “Mickey, just hear me ou-” Ian stops, jaw dropping as his eyes scan the drawings on the walls. The drawings of Ian. Ian when he’s ten and twelve and fifteen and how he looks right now.

“Ian, I can explain.”

“Don’t” Ian says, “I need to show you something.” Ian places his backpack on the bed and pulls out an old, thick notebook—a loose piece of paper falling out and fluttering to the floor.

Mickey bends down to pick it up, turning it over in his hands. It’s the drawing he gave Ian. In his dream. The one that was missing out of his sketchbook the next day. Maybe four years ago. It’s worn around the edges and it looks like it’s been handled many times. Mickey’s whole body shakes, like noticeably shakes, and he looks up at Ian, “But it can’t be.”

“But it is,” Ian says, eyes filled with tears.

“So it was real? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either. And I don’t care. I’ve been searching for you for years.” Ian flicks through his notebook and Mickey can see maps of Chicago, pictures, drawings and notes. Ian drops the notebook on the bed and tentatively reaches up to cup his jaw, “Mickey,” he says, voice thick with emotion.

Mickey feels a tear fall as it sinks in that this is really Ian. His Ian. His eyes scan all over Ian’s face, checking the freckles are the same, that the jaw is slightly crooked, and those eyes are just the right mix of green with hints of blue and yellow. Mickey’s hand is shaking as he reaches up to touch Ian’s face. “Ian?” he questions, a quiver in his voice. He brushes his thumb over Ian’s cheekbone and then across those perfect lips. Ian is looking at him like he’s the moon, the sun, and the stars. “Ian, I thought I was crazy.”

“I thought it was my bipolar and I was hallucinating.”

Mickey runs his hand gently down Ian’s neck and onto his chest. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“I love you too, so fucking much Mick.”

They both have tears spilling down their cheeks when Ian pulls him in and connects their lips. Mickey feels like every part of him lights up for the very first time in his life. All logical thought vanishes as his senses flood him with everything that is flesh and blood Ian. They kiss slow and deep, mouths opening greedily so their tongues can touch and slide against each other. Their moans fill the room as they hold each other’s faces, run hands gently down throats, behind necks and thread fingers through hair.

The heat of Ian’s skin, how he tastes, and his scent is so much stronger than in his dreams and he wants more and more. And yet he doesn’t want to rush it, he wants to savour every moment, so he doesn’t miss a thing.

Ian kisses down his neck, licking and biting softly, and he wraps his arms around Ian’s waist, holding on tight to keep himself standing. He thinks his knees may buckle with the intensity of the love and lust pulsing through his veins. His body is on fucking fire and he wants Ian to have him. All of him.

“Fuck, Mickey, you smell so good. I want you so bad. Need to be inside you.”

“I want that too,” he moans. “Is it stronger for you than in the dreams?” he asks as he runs his hands all over Ian’s chest. 

Ian grabs Mickey’s t-shirt and pulls it up over his head. “Mick, I used to wake up and I had cum in my sleep. The dreams felt real, but this is…this is…fuck, look at you.” Ian bends down and licks at his nipple before moving over to suck on the other one.

“Ian get your fuckin’ shirt off. Shit, let’s lock the door and get everything off.” Mickey pulls away from Ian to lock the door and when he turns back Ian’s shirt is off, and his jogging shorts are around his ankles. They kick off their shoes, then Mickey gets his pants off, and then they are just in their boxers, smiling at each other like two fucking idiots. 

“Looks like you’ve got a problem there, Mick. Think I can take care of it for you,” Ian says, a smug smirk on his face as he motions to Mickey’s obvious erection.

“Looks like you’ve got an even bigger problem,” he replies, thinking about taking Ian’s nine inches for the first time.

“Come here,” Ian says softly, the mood turning serious again. He steps forward into Ian’s waiting arms and slides his arms around his back. “Let’s take our time. We’ve waited so long. Don’t want it to be over in five minutes.” They kiss again and its gentle and sweet. Ian strokes up and down his back before slipping his hands into his boxers to grasp his ass. They are chest to chest and their cocks are pressing against each other and Mickey knows he wants this for the rest of his life. 

Ian slips Mickey’s boxers down and then he takes Ian’s down. They drink each other in, their chests rising and falling as their hearts thud hard and fast. Ian in the flesh is something to behold. His body is a fucking masterpiece and Mickey’s thoughts are distracted by the prospect of Ian posing nude for him. 

Mickey bites down on his lip, “Ian, you’re so beautiful.” Ian blushes, and Mickey thinks it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever seen.

“Fuck off Mick, have you seen yourself?”

“Let’s lie down,” he says as he takes Ian’s hand and pulls him down onto the bed with him. They lie down on their sides, facing each other, and tangle their legs together. He runs his fingers over Ian’s chest, his pecs, and through the chest hair that is just starting to grow. He circles each nipple, then runs his hand over Ian’s washboard stomach and the prominent V of his hips.

Ian's eyes are locked on Mickey’s as he traces a finger over Mickey’s eyebrow, down his cheek and then runs his thumb back and forth over his lips. Mickey opens his mouth and licks at Ian’s thumb, before tilting his chin down to swirl around it and suck it into his mouth.

“Fuck me, Mickey,” Ian moans, eyes glued to his lips as he slides his mouth up and down Ian’s thumb, sucking hard.

Ian pulls his thumb out and they lick into each other’s mouths as they rock against each other; hands exploring every curve, every muscle. Mickey feels his cock leaking as it rubs against Ian’s and the sounds of their wet kisses fill the room.

Ian rolls on top of him, causing him to let out a deep sigh of satisfaction. Ian grabs his hands and threads their fingers together, pinning Mickey’s arms above his head. He’s at Ian’s mercy, and he trusts him more than he’s ever trusted anyone. Ian sucks on his neck and then down his body, marking his path as he goes. When Ian reaches his lower abs, Mickey reaches down to stroke through the red hair he loves so much.

Ian sits up between his legs and just looks at him. “Mickey, I’m going to worship this body.” Their eyes stay locked on each other as Ian lowers down, grasps his cock in one hand and swirls his tongue around the head. Mickey can’t help but push up, desperate for Ian to take him into his mouth. When Ian does, he moans loudly and arches his back as pleasure washes over him. Ian blows him slow and firm, sending him crazy. It’s not enough to make him cum, but it’s enough to bring him to the edge.

When Ian pulls off, he gently rolls Mickey’s balls in his hand before telling him to roll over. Without hesitation he does so, Ian’s hands massaging up and down his back in long, firm, strokes. Mickey ruts into the mattress unable to stop himself. 

“Mickey, Mickey, Mickey. This ass. This is the most fuckable ass I’ve ever seen.” Ian massages his ass cheeks in outward circles, causing them to separate and close, exposing his hole. Every time his cheeks spread open his cock throbs as he imagines Ian sliding inside him.

“Ian, need more,” he begs.

Then Ian’s tongue is licking and swirling over and around his hole. He grips the sheets as Ian’s tongue dips in and out, opening him up. It’s dirty as fuck, but it feels so good. Mickey worries he won’t be able to last, his cock throbbing between his stomach and the bed.

“Ian, the lube is in the nightstand.”

Ian understands the urgency in his voice and licks at his hole one last time before sitting up and leaning over to find the lube. “Mickey do we need a condom? I’ve been tested and I’m clean.”

“I’ve never had sex without a condom, so I’m good.”

They lie next to each other again, and Mickey strokes Ian’s cock as Ian puts lube on his fingers. While Ian fingers him open, they kiss and kiss, and Mickey jerks Ian’s cock just fast enough to keep him rock hard. When Ian’s three fingers in and rubbing at his prostate every few strokes, Mickey tells him to stop.

Mickey pushes Ian onto his back, straddles him and slicks up his cock for him. Ian is watching his every move, eyes so dilated they are almost black. Lining Ian’s cock up, he pushes down, guttural moans pouring out of them as Ian enters him for the first time. Ian is huge, and he has to take him in slowly, adjusting to the stretch inch by inch. They are both cursing and moaning, overcome by finally being connected to each other.

When he is fully seated Ian asks him if he is okay and Mickey answers with the roll of his hips, sliding up and down Ian’s perfect fucking cock. Sex has never felt like this before and Mickey thinks their bodies are meant for each. Made to be joined in this way.

Ian suddenly sits up so they can kiss. Mickey rocks against Ian in short, shallow thrusts as they cling desperately to each other. 

“Mickey, let me be on top,” Ian pants, “I can’t last much longer.”

Mickey can’t last much longer either, so he lifts off and lies down on his back with his legs spread. Ian settles over him and pushes back in, thrusting deep and slow. “I never knew it could feel like this,” he says, holding Ian’s face in his hands. He is overcome by his feelings, this love that flows between them.

“Neither did I. You feel like home, Mick. I can’t believe I finally found you.”

They attach their lips to each other as Ian picks up the pace and thrusts hard and fast. When Ian adjusts his angle and hits his prostate, he cries out. He grabs his own cock and starts pumping, knowing he won’t need much more to push him over the edge.

“Jesus Christ, right there. Fuuuuck, cum inside me,” he pants.

“God Mickey, I love you.”

“Ian, I love you too.”

And then he’s cumming and it’s euphoric. Every dream flashes before his eyes from the first to the last and many more into the future. It’s like unlocking the secret of the universe, and he knows - knows like he knows the sun is in the sky - that he has found his missing half, and he is whole.

When he becomes aware of his surroundings again, Ian is lying on top of him, eyes closed. “Ian?” he says as he rubs his hand in circles on his back. Ian stirs and lifts his head to look at him. “Mickey, did you see?”

Mickey nods and he feels his eyes fill with tears. Happy tears. “Yeah, I saw. It was incredible.”

They press their lips together a few more times before pulling back to look at each other. Ian brushes away his tears. 

“You want to shower?” he asks, sweeping the hair back off Ian’s forehead.

“Yeah, we’re disgusting,” Ian replies smiling at him. 

Mickey has a tiny bathroom, but he doesn’t have to share, thank fucking god. He grabs an extra towel for Ian, and they head into the bathroom. It’s like they’ve always been together, cleaning each other in some sort of routine they automatically know, even though they have never showered together before. Once they are dry Mickey brushes his teeth then hands his toothbrush to Ian before going in search of some clean boxers for them both.

They end up back in bed, Mickey resting his head on Ian’s chest. It’s been a couple of hours since Ian knocked on his door and it’s almost dinner time. They order pizza, their stomachs rumbling after all the exercise. Mickey has so many questions he doesn’t know where to start, so he begins with the most important one, “Can you stay the night?”

“Mick, I never want to leave you. I’m still fucking scared I’m gonna wake up.”

Mickey tilts his head up so he can look at Ian. “We’re not dreaming. This is different. I feel different.” He pauses before continuing, “I’m sorry I pushed you away. I thought I was losing my mind. I had more love for you than an actual person, and it seemed unhealthy.”

Ian stroked a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, Mick. I understand. I thought I had schizophrenia as well as bipolar and I had made you up. But part of me always fought against that, and that’s why I kept the notebook and tried to find you. And then there’s the drawing. I woke up with it in my hand and there was no way to explain it—I can’t draw for shit.”

Mickey reaches for Ian’s hand and threads their fingers together. “I remember waking up and going to look in my sketchbook, and it was gone. I thought Mandy or Iggy were playing a trick on me. But it doesn’t explain how it happened.”

“I’ve done some research on dream telepathy and it fits that that’s what we were experiencing. There’s no scientific evidence that it’s real, but there are cases where people claim it’s happened to them.”

Mickey sits up so he can look at Ian. “What the fuck is dream telepathy?”

“It’s when two people dream the same dream at the same time. It doesn’t explain the drawing, though.”

“And then there were the hickeys,” Mickey says, raising his eyebrows.

“What hickeys?”

“Remember when you were manic, and you left some pretty serious hickeys on me? When I woke up, they were actually there.”

“Fuck Mick! How did you explain that?”

Mickey chuckles, “Just told everyone I got lucky.”

Ian grabs him and pulls him into his lap. “What about the wall? You wonder about that?”

“Yeah, I definitely want to know about the wall. I called Mandy and asked her to look, but she wouldn’t—said it was too dangerous.”

Ian rubs a hand up and down his thigh, “I wish I had found that building when I went to Chicago.”

“What the fuck? You really did go to Chicago? Did you actually grow up Southside?”

There’s a knock on the door and Mickey climbs off, “Hold that thought,” he says and then answers the door for the pizza guy. They settle back on the bed with the pizzas and two cokes and decide to eat before continuing as they are so fucking hungry. Once they finish, Mickey opens the window and lights a smoke, half hanging out the window to ensure the smoke alarm doesn’t go off. Ian laughs and then joins him, sharing the cigarette.

Once they close the window Ian kisses up his neck, then captures his bottom lip and sucks gently. “We gonna go round two soon?” Ian asks, sliding a hand into his boxers and running a finger down his crack. 

Mickey gives him a playful shove, “Fuckin’ tops. Give it some time—we just ate pizza.”

“Well you take all the time you need. Cos once we start again, I’m gonna fuck you hard and more than once.”

Mickey’s dick is already twitching, “Is that so? Well, I’m gonna keep you to that.”

They both stop with the banter and just look at each other. What they have is so much more than fucking, and they know it. 

“What if I hadn’t gone jogging today?” Ian asks.

“I’ve never sat in that park before. It was just a spur-of-the-moment decision.” Mickey steps forward and wraps his arms around Ian’s waist and Ian holds him tight with one hand cradling the back of his head. They sway in each other’s arms for a minute or two, as if nothing else exists in the world, before Ian places a kiss to the top of his head and leads them back over to the bed.

“So you want to hear about my trip to Chicago?” Ian asks as they get comfortable, leaning against the headboard.

“Fuck yeah. How the hell did you afford to get to Chicago?”

Ian laughs, “Frank had pulled this scam and had a shitload of cash, so I stole it from him and flew there and back. Stayed in a motel and everything.”

Mickey smiles at Ian, proud of him. “I can’t fuckin’ wait to meet Frank and all your siblings. And Monica when she’s next in town.”

“I want to meet Mandy and Betty and Mr. M.”

“What and not Terry?” he jokes. “That motherfucker.”

“Mick, I think I already met Terry.”

“How the fuck did you meet Terry?” Mickey’s eyes widen as it dawns on him what Ian is saying.

“Okay. So I went to the Chicago School of Art and made a complete dick of myself. Argued with admin lady when she told me you weren’t a student there. Then I travelled around Southside and found the baseball field and the school bleachers. As I said, I couldn’t find the abandoned building. The whole time I was walking around I was asking people if they knew a Mickey Milkovich. Some people just ran off scared when they heard the name. In case you didn’t know Mick—you come from an infamous family.”

Ian is teasing the fuck out of him, and he likes it. “Go on with the fucking story, Gallagher.”

“Okay, so finally someone told me where the Milkovich house was and I thought, this is it, Mickey will answer the door and it’s gonna be this big fucking romantic moment where we look into each other’s eyes and kiss passionately on the doorstep.”

Mickey can’t help but laugh at Ian’s theatrics, as he waves his arms around for emphasis. “Go on you fuckin’ sap.”

“So I knock, and this man comes to the door screaming, ‘what the fuck you want?’ Straight away I think, this has got to be Terry. But I didn’t want to chicken out since I’d travelled all the way to the other side of the country. I said, ‘is Mickey here?’ and he pulled a fucking gun out and pointed it at my face. Told me to get off his property or he’d-and I quote-‘put a fucking bullet between your eyes.’”

Ian is still telling the story with a smile on his face, but Mickey feels so fucking angry. The thought of Terry threatening Ian, or hurting him, makes him see red. 

“I swear I’d like to kill that motherfucker one day.”

“Mickey it was fine. Anyway, we should go back one day and visit the abandoned building. See if it’s there, or any traces of it.”

“We’re definitely doing that. We can stay with Betty and you can meet Mandy and Matt—Mr. M.”

“Mick, you think we met each other when we were little kids and just can’t remember?”

“Maybe, but I don’t remember you from school. Although I would have been two years ahead of you.”

“Other than school, the only other thing I remember doing when we lived in Canaryville was playing little league.”

“I played little league, but only for a few weeks. I got kicked off the team for pissing on first base.”

Ian sits up abruptly, grabbing his forearm in a vice-like grip, “Are you fucking kidding me? I was playing second base when a kid pissed on first. That was you? I thought you were such a badass.”

They look at each and smile-could it be true that they met when they were little kids? 

“You think that’s why the first dream was at the dugouts?” Mickey asks. “There were more dreams there than anywhere else. Well for me there was.”

“Yeah, me too. Maybe my family wasn’t supposed to move, and we were always meant to be together.”

Mickey climbs onto Ian, straddling his lap and cupping his jaw. “That’s some seriously romantic shit, Gallagher,” he says, before kissing Ian’s neck then whispering in his ear, “I do know something you’re definitely meant to do, and that’s fuck me good and hard.”

*

Mickey is convinced people don’t have mind-blowing sex like he and Ian are having right now. He’s impressed with Ian’s abilities in the sack, but that also makes him wonder just how many guys he’s fucked to have acquired this level of skill at such a young age. The first time they’d had sex they had gone slow, managing to hold off on their orgasms for a reasonable length of time. The second time, Ian had fucked him so hard and fast his vision blurred, but the two of them were done in five minutes. Now they are on their third time, Ian having a rather impressive refractory period of only ten minutes. The benefits of being teenagers, and no, Mickey wasn’t complaining.

Mickey is bent over his desk as Ian pounds into him from behind. He holds onto the edges as the desk bangs into the wall on every thrust. The room reeks of their sex and Mickey didn’t think it was possible to be this turned on. He squeezes around Ian’s cock, knowing it sends him wild.

“Mickey, fuuuuck! Your ass is fucking perfect.”

It’s like they’ve been fucking for years, it feels so natural, like they know each other’s minds and bodies better than their own. Ian slows down, they need to, or they’ll cum too soon. Ian leans over and kisses his back as he shallowly rocks in and out.

“Mickey, will you ride me?” Ian whispers in his ear.

Ian pulls out and Mickey turns to face him, kissing the fucking shit out of him as he walks Ian back to the bed. Mickey pushes Ian down and climbs on, wasting no time getting that cock back inside him. They thread their fingers together and he pushes against Ian’s hands so he can better control the roll of his hips. He mixes it up, bouncing up and down fast, then rolling sensually through his hips when Ian gets too close. They are both covered in sweat and Mickey’s thighs burn with the effort.

He throws his head back and closes his eyes as he focuses on the way Ian’s cock rubs against his sweet spot. Sex with Ian is his new religion, and he wants to worship at the alter every day. 

Ian’s lust filled voice pulls him out of his trance, “You love my cock inside you, don’t you?”

He looks down at Ian as he continues to ride him, “Your cock was made for my ass, but I want it in my mouth next time.”

Mickey releases Ian’s hands and places one on Ian’s chest while sucking two of Ian’s fingers into his mouth. Ian plants his feet on the bed and starts thrusting up into him like a man possessed. Mickey’s never cum untouched before, but he knows he’s about to when he feels his balls tighten and Ian erupt deep inside him. His orgasm ripples through his body, his cum spurting over Ian’s abs. He cries out, ‘Ian’ over and over again, the warmth of Ian’s release spilling deep inside him. 

He collapses over Ian, unable to hold himself up anymore. Warm, strong arms wrap around him and he feels more relaxed than he’s ever felt in his life. Eventually they make their way back to the shower. They brush their teeth and Ian takes his meds—he had packed them when he chased Mickey down earlier that afternoon, cocky motherfucker - and then climb into bed under the covers. There are whispered ‘I love you’s’ and sweet kisses as they prepare to sleep. Mickey cannot believe he gets to fall asleep with Ian at long last—no longer alone and hoping to see him in his dreams—but instead wrapped up in each other’s arms; real flesh and blood, and warmth and love. Ian spoons him from behind, nuzzling his nose into his neck and threading their fingers together.

*

**_They are on their beach and Ian is standing behind him, arms wrapped protectively around his waist. The sun is setting, casting oranges and pinks across the sky and over the water. Mickey tilts his head back, Ian’s lips finding his as the sun warms their faces. It’s peaceful in an unprecedented way - this dream._ **

**_Mickey turns to face Ian after their kiss and laces their hands together. “Did you think this would still happen?”_ **

**_“No, but it’s nice. We can really enjoy it now.”_ **

**_They smile at each other and Mickey places a kiss to the back of Ian’s hand. “You wanna walk for a bit?”_ **

**_Ian leans forward and places a kiss on his cheek, “Walk anywhere with you, Mick.”_ **

**_They head off down the beach hand in hand, the water splashing over their feet every now and again. When they reach the end of the beach, the sun is almost set, and they lay down in the sand. It’s a warm night and Mickey sees no point in wasting anymore time. They want what they want. He strips his t-shirt off, Ian quickly mirroring his action then pulling their bodies together._ **

**_Before long they are naked with Ian thrusting into him with long, sensual strokes from behind. Mickey loves the feel of Ian’s chest against his back and his lips on his neck. This is the first time they have fucked spooning on their sides and Mickey thinks he might just love it…_ **

He is not sure if it’s his own moans or Ian’s that bring him out of the dream, but he gasps when he realises Ian is inside him; the long sensual thrusts of Ian’s cock rubbing against his prostate and pushing him close to the edge.

“Ian…Ian…” he calls, reaching back to squeeze Ian’s ass hard enough to wake him.

“Mickey…oh fuck Mickey,” Ian replies as he wakes up, his hips stilling for a moment as he too, realises what’s happening.

“Keep going, feels so good and I’m so close.”

Ian resumes his thrusting, picking up the pace slightly, but still rolling into him. The rocking against his body, the dream, the warmth of Ian inside him has him feeling boneless. He teeters on the edge of orgasm, moaning deeply when Ian strokes his cock in time with his thrusts.

“Mickey, gonna cum in you baby,” Ian whispers into his ear then sucks hard on his neck.

Mickey never thought being called baby would fill his chest with warmth, but it does. His orgasm hits in slow motion, that initial burst sending a euphoric wave throughout his body. It’s as if time stands still, he’s so lost in the pleasure, then pulses ravage his body, cum shooting forcefully in its quest for release. Ian is moaning and cursing with each wave of his own orgasm, Mickey intensely aware of Ian’s pulsing cock buried deep in his ass and his teeth biting into the flesh of his shoulder.

Mickey turns his head and they kiss once, twice, yet he always wants more. Ian pulls out, and he knows they are a mess of cum and sweat but he doesn’t want to move out of Ian’s arms. “I love you,” he whispers into the dark.

“I love you too, baby,” he hears Ian reply, as sleep pulls him back under.

*

When Mickey wakes up, he smiles like a fucking five-year-old in a candy shop. Ian has an arm and a leg draped over him and sleeping naked with someone you love feels pretty fucking amazing. His cell buzzes with a text notification and he reaches out to grab it off the nightstand. It’s Eden asking about the exhibition opening that night. He shoots off a quick text telling her he’ll meet her there, possibly with a surprise, then puts it back on the nightstand. They will need a cover story to tell Eden—the truth isn’t an option. Mickey really wants Ian to come with him to the exhibition.

Ian stirs behind him, a hard cock pressing into his ass. He almost laughs thinking about how happy Ian must be that he’s on a med cocktail that doesn’t interfere with his dick. Mickey pushes his ass back. “Hey, wake up sleepyhead.”

More ass poking ensues as Ian’s lips and hands get in on the action too. “But I’m so comfortable,” Ian mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

“One thing’s for sure, we need to change these sheets and have a shower.”

Mickey turns over to face Ian, kissing him quickly, worried about his morning breath.

“It’s Saturday. Can we hang out today or do you already have plans?” Ian has this hopeful puppy dog look on his face and Mickey feels that familiar desire to look after him.

“I was hoping we could hang out today _and_ tonight. I have something important on tonight and I’d really like you to be there.”

“Like as your date? As your boyfriend?”

“Of course, as my boyfriend. Or am I assuming too much?” Mickey suddenly feels panicked, realising he just assumed they were together now.

“No, fuck no. Mickey, I _want_ to be your boyfriend. I want us to be together. Exclusive. Not sharing this ass with anyone,” Ian says and grabs a handful of flesh.

“Well, I sure as fuck ain’t sharing this cock,” he says, rubbing Ian’s still half hard dick. They kiss messily, smiling through it.

“So what’s this important thing you got on tonight?” Ian asks.

“I don’t think I ever got to tell you, but I got selected as one of the top ten fine art students at UCLA and we each had to create three pieces for an exhibition at this fancy gallery downtown. The opening night is tonight.” Mickey is trying not to smile, but he is proud as fuck.

“Fuck Mickey, that’s amazing. How does a freshman get chosen ahead of seniors for something like that? Told you you were gonna make it.” Ian pulls him on top, “I’m so proud of you Mick. I’d love to come.”

*

They’ve eaten pop tarts and drunk coffee, brushed their teeth, and Ian has taken his meds. Now they are in the shower doing a pretty shit job at getting clean. Mickey suspects they will fuck like rabbits for a long time to come. It’s as if their bodies need to be joined or connected. They seem to be tied together by some invisible force they cannot fight, nor do they want to. 

But Mickey has to admit, being pounded by a nine-inch dick four times in less than twenty-four hours has left him a little sore—he will definitely be walking funny at the gallery tonight. That’s not to say he doesn’t somehow like the feeling, this reminder of what they’ve shared. Of what belongs only between them. 

Mickey is on his knees and finally getting a taste of Ian’s cock. It’s not like in his dreams, it’s so much more. Like comparing a photo to a 3D movie, everything is heightened—the weight and texture of his cock, his scent, and the heat of his skin. Mickey doesn’t know how to deep throat, but he’ll be more than happy to practice on Ian. Seeing the look of ecstasy on Ian’s face turns him on and he sucks harder, using his hand to stroke what he can’t take into his mouth. Ian is moaning and cursing as he switches between watching Mickey and throwing his head back against the shower wall. Mickey knows when Ian is about to cum and he strokes himself as Ian releases into his mouth. He pulls off gently and stands up, leaning against Ian as they kiss.

“You sore?” Ian asks, sounding concerned.

“What do ya think? Had your huge cock up my ass four times already.” He’s smiling because he doesn’t want Ian to feel bad, he’s loved every minute.

“How about one finger?” Ian asks, eyebrows raised in question.

Ian steps out of the shower and grabs the lube, putting some on his finger before stepping back inside. 

“I’ll be gentle, I promise, but I want to take care of this,” Ian says, dropping to his knees and licking up his cock.

Mickey spreads his legs more as Ian slowly presses a finger inside him and swallows his cock. He was already close from giving the blowjob, so when Ian rubs at his prostate, he knows he will be gone in minutes. The combined stimulation makes him want to thrust, but he holds still so the pressure stays firm on his sweet spot, knowing the release will be mind-blowing. And it is; he cums hard in Ian’s mouth, struggling to stay standing on his shaking legs. 

They finally get to the actual cleaning part of the shower, rushing as the hot water starts to run out.

*

As they head back to the apartment Ian is house-sitting, Mickey tells Ian what Eden knows already so they can concoct a cover story. They decide to tell her that Ian’s brother is starting at UCLA and the entire family moved to California too. Ian is going to claim he didn’t tell Mickey as he wanted to surprise him—making a romantic gesture to win him back. They both agree it sounds plausible. Coming up with a story to tell Mandy, Betty and Matt will be more difficult since they’ve all seen Mickey’s paintings and have different ideas about who Ian is. They decide to leave that problem for another day. 

After Ian has changed and packed clothes for the exhibition opening they take an Uber down to Long Beach so Ian can show Mickey the beach they dream about. They buy hotdogs for lunch and sit on the sand to eat. Mickey can’t believe he’s sitting on this beach for real, Ian at his side. His life changed the moment he spotted the red hair in the park yesterday and while it feels like they have been together as friends, then lovers, for all those years since they met in 2006, it is also new and intense experiencing Ian in the flesh.

“Ian, you ever have any dreams where we were older? Like maybe us in the future?”

“Oh fuck yes!” Ian says, mouth still full of food. “I had one-”

“-in the expensive house with the pool?” Mickey interrupts, finishing Ian’s sentence.

“No. We were in like a Doctor's office. This sounds fucking stupid, but I think I was a doctor. You came in with a girl, maybe about ten years old, and you looked like you were in your 40s.”

“You fuckin’ serious? In my 40s? What did I look like? What did you look like?”

“You were sexy as fuck. I kinda like older guys,” Ian says and Mickey frowns in disapproval. Ian laughs, “Shut the fuck up Mickey. You were going grey around the temples and your body was hot—all filled out and muscular.”

Mickey feels himself blush. “What about you?”

“I couldn’t see myself. My hands looked older and I could tell I wasn’t as skinny as I am now. Oh, and I had a beard.”

Mickey hums in appreciation and Ian raises an eyebrow at him. “You had a beard in my dream, and it was…fuckin’ hot. I mean you’re hot now, but in your 30s you’re gonna be, you know…”

Ian elbows him playfully, “What Mick? Hotter?”

“Fuck off, Gallagher. In my dream we were in our 30s and lived in this big ass house with fancy shit and there was a baby in the house and we both had rings on. Think we were married.”

“I think we have a kid. A girl.”

“Lily,” they both say at the same time. 

“Ian, you think that shit is gonna happen? Or it was just what our subconscious’s want?” 

“Who the fuck knows? How can any of this be explained? No one would believe us if we told them.”

They’ve finished eating and Mickey turns to face Ian, takes his hand and plays with his long fingers. “Don’t laugh at me, but I feel like you’re my other half, like until yesterday, part of me was missing. Maybe these dreams happened because we are meant to be together and were never meant to be separated.” Mickey finishes and looks up into those green eyes to see if Ian thinks he’s full of shit.

Ian cups his jaw and kisses him slowly. It’s gentle and sweet, and romantic as fuck. When he pulls away Ian keeps their foreheads pressed together. “Mickey we may never find the answers to how this happened, but it did, and I know we’re meant to be. I want everything with you.” Ian sits back so they can look at each other. “I want to marry you, have a family with you, grow old with you and if there’s an afterlife, I want to be there with you too. Our souls are linked or connected somehow, and I don’t think it’s something that can be undone.”

“You saying I’m stuck with your goofy ginger ass forever?” Mickey smirks at Ian, love pulsing through his veins.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. In this life and in the next.”

Mickey stands up and offers his hand to Ian, who takes it as they stroll down the beach. There are other people on the beach and Mickey doesn’t give a fuck. A year ago, he wouldn’t have kissed or held hands in public with a guy even if his life depended on it. Now he feels proud. Proud of his boyfriend, of what they have, and of the man he’s becoming. 

*

Back at Mickey’s dorm they are about to get ready for the exhibition when Ian asks if one of the drawings on his wall is of Mandy.

“Yeah, that’s Mandy. You want to see a photo?” he asks, pulling his cell out of his pocket and opening his photo gallery. He hands the cell to Ian once he’s found a recent photo of Mandy.

“She’s beautiful, Mick. How is she doing without you?”

“She’s doing good. She came to visit for an entire week in February and she goes around to have dinner with Betty every Sunday, and she’s got Matt at school. And even though I don’t talk to him much, Iggy will always try to keep her safe from Terry.

Ian flicks through photos, “Is this Betty?” he asks.

Mickey sits down on the bed next to Ian and he shows him photos of Matt and Iggy as well. Ian scrolls back to the one of Matt.

“Umm, this is Mr. M—your teacher? You had a fucking crush on him, didn’t you?”

Mickey chuckles, “Yeah, I did when I was like fifteen. Look at the fuckin’ guy, can you blame me?”

“No, I don’t fucking blame you. I’m just glad I didn’t know he looked like this or I would have gone insane with jealousy.”

Mickey rubs his thumb over Ian’s bottom lip, “You the jealous type, Gallagher?”

“Like you’re fucking not?” Ian challenges, then kisses him hard.

They end up wrestling and laughing like the fucking dorks they are. Mickey’s got Ian pinned on the bed and he knows Ian can get away if he wants to. “So when did you…you know…get a crush on me?” he asks, settling his ass over Ian’s dick.

“I always had a crush on you. Wasn’t that fucking obvious?”

“You were ten. Who has a crush at ten?” Mickey asks, screwing his face up.

“Plenty of people have a crush at ten. I was doing a lot of shit I shouldn’t have been doing by the time I was fourteen. Definitely wanted to fuck you when I was fourteen, and I think maybe you wanted that too.”

Mickey doesn’t want to know about the shit Ian was doing at fourteen because he knows he will be really fucking pissed, and he doesn’t want it to spiral into a fight. So he puts that aside for another day.

“I was still fighting it—being gay,” he says. “You were fourteen and comfortable with it, and I was sixteen and still confused. Remember that time we were at the docks on the boat?” Ian nods. “And you kissed my neck. I wanted to tell you then. Think that was the moment I admitted to myself that I was gay, and I had feelings for you.”

“Come here,” Ian says, pulling him down so they can kiss. 

Mickey knows he has to pull away or they’ll be fucking again and late for the exhibition. Climbing off Ian, he says, “Show me some photos of your family.”

Ian is immediately distracted, grabbing his phone out of his backpack and sitting back down on the bed. Mickey sees Fiona and Debbie first, then Ian shows him a picture of Lip and his mind flashes back to that day in the quad.

“Ian…do you ever visit Lip on campus?”

“Yeah sometimes, why?”

“I think I saw you in the quad with Lip. It would have been last year, not long before Christmas. I thought I was fucking hallucinating because I hadn’t seen you in so long. I tried to follow you, but I lost you.”

The two of them just sit and stare at each other for a while. The realisation that they could have met six months ago, have missed out on the six months, weighs heavy.

“Fuck Mickey. It would have been me. I came to see Lip a few times just before Christmas—I was still struggling with the meds and needed him.”

Mickey takes Ian’s phone back and they return to the photos, looking at Carl, Liam and the famous Frank. Lastly, Ian shows him a picture of Monica. She’s hugging Ian and they are laughing, and she looks like the best Mom anyone could ever have. 

Mickey knows he will have to look after Ian sometimes, he’s not stupid. Ian has a mental disorder and a lifetime of meds ahead of him. But he won’t let Ian down. Monica and Frank might have neglected and abandoned him, but Mickey’s not going to. He’s all in, sickness and health and all that shit.

*

Mickey is so fucking nervous once they pull up outside the gallery. He’s nervous about how his paintings will look compared to the other nine students, he’s nervous about Ian seeing his paintings - especially since he hasn’t told him who they’re of- and he’s nervous about introducing Ian to Eden and everyone else. Most people know he’s gay, so at least arriving with a boyfriend isn’t a big deal.

“You ok?” Ian asks, as they get out of the Uber.

“Yeah, just fuckin’ nervous. Never been to one of these fancy galleries before.”

“Well something tells me you’re going to spend a lot of time at fancy galleries in the future, so you may as well start now.” Ian leans down and kisses him on the cheek. Mickey grabs Ian’s hand - he needs it - and they head inside.

There are already lots of people and that makes him sweat. Ian squeezes his hand and knocks their shoulders together, beaming at him. Mickey can’t help but smile back. They step into the main area and there, front and centre, are his three paintings hung in the most prominent position in the gallery. ‘Fuck’ he mutters under his breath. He goes to walk closer but stops when he realises Ian is not moving with him. When he turns to look at his boyfriend, he’s met with wide eyes and an open mouth. 

Ian’s eyes are taking in all three paintings but keep focussing back on the centre one—of them together, naked. It’s discreet; their dicks aren’t hanging out or anything, but Ian is on top of Mickey, in between Mickey’s legs and holding one leg up by the thigh. It _could_ be them fucking or just lying together. They are, in fact, just lying together and looking into each other’s eyes as Mickey’s hand cradles Ian’s jaw. It is sexual, but more than that, it’s romantic. Mickey is proud of capturing not only how much they love each other but also the fear that accompanies it. Now they are together in the flesh, Mickey understands more than ever that losing Ian would leave him to walk the earth as half a man. 

The two portraits depict each of them at their lowest—Ian struggling with his disorder and his parental abandonment and Mickey struggling with the acceptance of his sexuality and his violent father. Mickey hopes that Ian understands his intent—that their love for each other saves them and enables them to rise above all the bullshit.

Ian suddenly starts walking closer, so Mickey just follows him, waiting patiently for Ian to process it all. After staring at each portrait, Ian finally stands before the centre painting. Mickey feels scared; he didn’t think Ian really existed when he painted them so he never thought Ian would see them. He realises he has revealed a lot about Ian without the man’s consent. 

“Ian?” he asks quietly, reaching out to hold his forearm. There are people around them whispering, and it’s no surprise considering the novelty of having the subjects of a painting standing in front of it. Especially when said subjects are naked in the painting.

“Ian?” he tries again, shaking his arm gently.

Ian turns to him, and Mickey’s heart nearly stops when he sees the tears in Ian’s eyes. Holy fuck.

“Mickey, they are the most beautiful paintings I’ve ever seen. It’s like looking into our souls. Fuck.”

Mickey breathes out, relief washing over him. “Thank fucking Christ, I thought you were upset. Mad at me.”

Ian cups his face with both hands and kisses him passionately—right there in front of the paintings. 

When they pull away, breathless and giddy, Mickey realises Eden is standing next to them with the biggest fucking grin on her face. She’s spiked her short dark hair and gone all out with some creative makeup. She’s dressed in a tailored suit which shows off her curves, and Mickey almost laughs because the men will be lining up to lick her boots and that’s not her intention. Fuck, what does he know, maybe the lesbian’s will line up to lick her boots too?

“So, I finally get to meet the famous Ian,” Eden says, eyes wide as she looks at Ian. “And you,” she continues, pointing at Mickey, “have some explaining to do.”

“Ian, this is my best friend Eden. Eden, this _is_ the famous Ian. Told you I might have a surprise with me tonight.” Mickey is beaming with pride and he doesn’t fucking care.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t expecting a whole person. From Chicago. Clearly you two didn’t waste any time. Not that I’m surprised.” Eden hooks her arm around Ian’s. “Ian, he never shuts up about you.”

Mickey blushes and Ian laughs at him.

“Really? Is that so? Guess you and I have lots to talk about then,” Ian says, laying the charm on. Mickey knows the two of them will hit it off.

“How long are you staying Ian? Eden asks. “Did you come all this way for the opening?”

“I’m staying permanently. My brother’s going to UCLA, so we all decided to make the move. Gave Mickey the surprise of a lifetime yesterday.”

Eden turns to look at Mickey, and silently mouths ‘wow’ before speaking, “And you two are back together? Guess when it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. Come on Ian, let’s mingle. I can introduce you to everyone. Mickey, Professor Halliday is looking for you.”

Mickey lets the two of them disappear into the crowd and goes in search of Professor Halliday, finding her near the door with a fellow Professor.

“Mr Milkovich, there you are,” she says when she spots him.

“Evening Professor, Eden said you wanted to speak with me.”

“Yes, I have some good news. We have a rule with this exhibition that the work is not to be sold. However, a very well-known art collector—Jack Wright—would like to commission you to create a new painting for him.”

Mickey knows he looks stupid right now; his mouth is hanging open and words are failing him. 

Professor Halliday laughs at him. “Congratulations Mickey. Negotiate hard and know your worth. I’ll email you a list of agents, it looks like you’ll be needing someone to represent you very soon.”

“Thank you,” he stutters out and rushes off to find Ian and Eden.

What he isn’t expecting is to literally run into Steve. He’s in the middle of apologising for slamming into the guy before he even realises who it is. “Steve, sorry man. Umm…didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight.”

“Well, you told me about it and how important it was, so I thought I’d come down and support you.” Steve leans in, squeezes his bicep, then whispers in his ear, “And maybe persuade you to have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

All Mickey can think about is Ian. If Ian sees him with this guy, he will have to explain himself. Plus, he’s almost certain Ian will get jealous- and for no reason. Fuck.

“Ahh, yeah about the dinn-”

“So who’s your friend Mickey?” Ian says, sliding in beside him and putting an arm possessively around his waist. Ian is glaring at Steve like he’s going to knock his fucking teeth out. Steve takes a step away from Mickey, thank fucking god, but Ian clearly witnessed Steve coming onto him.

“Ian, this is Steve, Steve this is my boyfriend Ian.”

Steve frowns, “What the fuck Mickey? You never told me you had a boyfriend.”

Ian steps in closer to Steve, using his height to look down at him. “Yeah well he does, so you better fuck off.”

“Hey hey.” He grasps Ian’s forearm to let him know to back off. “Ian, it’s okay. I can handle this, and Steve was just going.” Then turns to Steve, “Sorry about the mix-up man.”

“Yeah what the fuck ever—lose my number,” Steve replies, understandably pissed, then heads towards the door.

“Who the fuck was that Mickey? You fucking him?” Ian is worked up and Mickey needs to calm him down. He gets it - if the situation was reversed, he would probably use his fists first and talk second.

Mickey slides his hand around Ian’s neck and pulls him a little closer. “No, I ain’t fucking him, never fucked him. Met him recently. We’ve just been out for coffee and texted. That’s it.” Mickey pulls his cell out and opens the contacts. “See, deleting his number right now. No need to be a jealous bitch, I’m all yours and you know it.”

Ian softens and looks guilty. “Sorry Mick. I just saw him touch you and whisper in your ear and I got so fucking pissed. I’ve waited so many years to be with you and-”

Mickey pulls Ian down and kisses him quiet. Steve forgotten by the time their lips separate.

The rest of the evening goes well—Mickey meeting many people in the industry, collecting business cards, and making himself known as an up-and-coming artist. 

*

They end up back at the apartment Ian is house sitting. It’s a fucking nice apartment and they can enjoy the king size bed, kitchen and large bathroom. Mickey is tired out from attending the exhibition as he still struggles with social gatherings. Ian seems to get along with everybody, and he found it comforting to have Ian beside him. As expected, Ian and Eden hit it off and have already arranged to catch up next week—just the two of them. 

Ian has run them a bath and Mickey feels kind of nervous about it. It makes his stomach flutter. He’s sure as shit never taken a bath with someone else before, fuck he hasn’t had a bath since he was a kid. Ian gets in first, then spreads his legs and motions for him to sit between them. Mickey gets in hesitantly, Ian has made it fucking hot, and slowly sinks down. Ian wraps his arms around Mickey’s waist and pulls him back so he is resting against Ian’s chest. It takes him a few seconds to relax then he lets his weight press against Ian and his legs immerse under the water. Fuck, it’s nice. He places his hands over Ian’s and lays his head back, rewarded with kisses to his temple.

“So proud of you Mick. Seems like yesterday you were showing me your sketchbook under the L and now you’re getting commissioned by an influential art collector. Fuck, I was a smart kid getting you to sign that sketch.”

Mickey can feel the smile on Ian’s face, so he pinches him hard, “You’re a fuckin’ dick.”

“Yeah, but a smart fucking dick.” They both laugh and Ian squeezes him tighter. “Seriously, I’m really proud of you babe.”

“What’s with this ‘babe’ and ‘baby’ shit?” he asks.

“What? You don’t like it?” Ian slides a hand down to rub at his cock. “You like this baby?”

Mickey moans and he’s not sure if it’s from the touches or the word ‘baby.’ Fuck, he is so gay. 

“How bout we compromise, and I only use it when we’re alone, so no one knows what a soft bitch you are.”

“Fuck off Gallagher, we know who the soft bitch is out of the two of us.”

Ian chuckles, “Yeah, I think we do.”

Mickey tilts his head back and they kiss; it’s sloppy and wet and perfect. He thinks he could get used to taking baths with Ian.

The last thirty-six hours have been the best of his life but he can’t deny there is still a little part of him that is frightened. Now he has Ian, he doesn’t want to be away from him—ever. He wishes they were living together, but Ian still has a year of high school to go. Fucking high school! They are both so young and while Mickey knows—knows with the same certainty that the earth is round - that they will be together until they die, they still have to finish their education and learn how to make their way in this world. 

“Ian, how is this gonna work? You know, seeing each other?”

“Mick, my family doesn’t care where I am as long as I’m safe and taking my meds. I can stay with you as much as you want.”

“Really? What about school?” he asks, getting hopeful.

“Well I can stay weekends with you once school goes back. And maybe you can stay one weeknight at my place? We’ve got all of summer yet and I’m house sitting here for another two weeks. We can stay here and then I’ll stay at your dorm after that.”

“I like the sound of that. Let’s go to bed, I’m fucking exhausted.”

Once they get into bed Mickey lays his head on Ian’s chest, wraps an arm around his waist and throws a leg over Ian’s. He is suddenly reminded of a dream they had where he had imagined them falling asleep like this in a bed. Now it’s happening. How did his life get so fucking good?

“Mick, aren’t you going to write in your diary?”

He lifts himself up to look at Ian, “Don’t think I need to anymore. I got everything I ever dreamed of right here.”

Ian shines that beautiful full smile at him, “And I’m the soft bitch?”

They wrestle.

They fuck.

They make love.

Nestled safely in each other’s arms, they dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The last chapter will be a time jump - about 6 years ahead - and will be told in third person but will be from Ian's POV! It will be romantic AF so please join me for it! Chapter 9 will also include an EPILOGUE (a further time jump) in the form of a diary entry from Mick!! 
> 
> * For those reading 'Dance Partners' I am about half-way through chapter 21 and my aim is to have it up around Tuesday or Wednesday. 
> 
> * Chapter 9 of this fic, I will still be aiming for next Saturday (may end up being Sunday).
> 
> * Remember you can 'user subscribe' if you are interested in reading my future fics! Have some one shots coming up after I finish these two WIP's and then another multi-chapter fic in my head if people are interested in reading it.
> 
> * PLEASE PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT - I LIVE FOR THEM!!   
> * KUDOS = I SPENT MY TIME WELL, SO PLEASE LEAVE KUDOS IF YOU ARE ENJOYING IT.
> 
> Stay safe everyone and thank you for reading!  
> Rachael x


	9. I got everything I dreamed of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2019...six years later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * This final chapter is in third person narrative - from IAN'S POV!!! (with the exception of the epilogue)
> 
> * There is ONE dream - which is in bold italic as per usual - and it is Ian's dream.
> 
> * This chapter includes an EPILOGUE, set in 2028- which is in the form of a MICKEY DIARY ENTRY! 
> 
> * This chapter is me at my most romantic - sorry I can't help it! I hope you enjoy it. Mickey gets 'last say' as he should, and gets to reflect on his growth, which to me is beautiful.

**Six years later...2019**

Ian is sitting at his desk in their loft and he’s supposed to be studying for an exam, but his mind keeps wandering. Sometimes he likes to just sit and think and remember, and today is one of those days. It helps him work through his shit when he needs to, and it also calms him. 

Mickey has an important exhibition opening tonight, so he’s down at the gallery overseeing all the last-minute details. Ian feels like Mickey’s been hiding something from him and not just the paintings. This is the first time since they met six years ago that Mickey hasn’t let him see what he’s been working on, and it doesn’t sit well with him. 

They have been inseparable since they met, never going more than a day without seeing each other for the first three years and living together for the last three. Nowadays, when they meet people, they tell them they’ve known each other since 2006 because it’s the truth. They may have just been dreaming, but for them they are mutual memories that live and breathe. 

They moved to New York a year ago, both for the art scene and so he could start med school at the NYU Grossman School of Medicine. Realising he could go one step further than an EMT and be a doctor made him study hard and Mickey supported him every step of the way. With his first year almost complete, he knows he has found his calling. Mickey is supporting him financially so he can focus on his studies, and while it sometimes bothers him, he knows Mickey wants to do it, so he is simply grateful.

Mandy finished college and is now living in New York with two friends. She has a job in event management and he’s glad Mickey gets to look out for his sister—protect her—like he always wanted. Ian adores Mandy and they’ve become close friends over the years. 

And Mickey! Mickey is already a well-known artist across America; his paintings constantly rising in value. By the time Mickey finished college, he had a six-figure savings account. They live in a chic loft and never have to worry about the electricity bill or where the next meal will come from. It’s a far cry from their childhoods and they never forget it.

Deciding he wouldn’t get any more studying done, he turns off his laptop and goes to the kitchen to make a coffee. Mickey will be home in a couple of hours, then they will get ready and leave for the gallery. His cell vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out.

**Mick:** Go look in the teak wardrobe babe x

Ian abandons his coffee making and makes his way across the loft to the wardrobe. Inside is a garment bag that wasn’t there yesterday. He wonders how the fuck it got there, trying to figure out when Mickey had time to sneak it in. He pulls it out and opens the zip, revealing a beautiful Armani suit. At first glance it appears to be black, but upon closer inspection he sees that it is the deepest of greens. It’s not their anniversary, and it’s not his birthday, so he has no clue why Mickey is spoiling him.

Hanging the suit back up, he grabs his phone to shoot off a text.

**Ian:** It’s beautiful but fucking expensive. What did I do to deserve it? Xx

**Mick:** Nothing. Everything. The paintings at the exhibition are for you and I thought it would be nice for us to dress for the occasion. x

Ian reads the text twice, then calls. As soon as Mickey answers Ian speaks, “What do you mean they’re for me?” It’s like he can hear Mickey smile, just like he knows he’s shaking his head and rolling his eyes too. 

“Not telling you anything, Gallagher. That’s why I didn’t tell you earlier cos you just keep pushing. It’s a surprise. All I’m saying is I painted them for you.”

Ian doesn’t know what to say. He feels guilty that he was mad at Mickey for hiding them, and he feels giddy with excitement to see what his boyfriend has painted for him. He settles on, “I can’t wait, babe. Will you be back soon?”

“About an hour, I think. Hey gotta go, the gallery director needs me. Love you.”

“Love you too,” he replies and then Mickey is gone.

Ian tries the suit jacket on because he can’t help himself. It’s fancy as fuck and he knows he will get laid tonight for sure. He makes his way back to the kitchen to start on the coffee all over again, then plants himself on the sofa with one of their photobooks. Ian makes one every year, documenting everything they do. He’s almost obsessive about it, like the photos prove he’s not dreaming.

The one he’s picked up is from their first year together, and it’s the one he looks at most often. It has their first trip to Chicago together—where they went to the abandoned building. He flicks the pages over, looking at the photos from when he first met Mandy, Betty and Matt and then stops on the photos of the building. It was there. It was faint, but it was there. He had taken photos of it from every angle to be sure they would always have a record of it. 

They’d never told another living soul about it, because who would believe them? Perhaps even more so, they wanted it to belong to them—something no one else on earth knew about. Their love transcended time and space. It was a love that grew in the unconscious thoughts of their dreams and manifested itself into reality. 

They had stood in front of the wall for hours; touched it, read it, traced it, photographed it, drawn it and wondered at it. They had laughed at the insanity of it, stared in awe, and cried with the weight of it. They had held each other, kissed gently and kissed hard, and declared their love, all in front of it.

Not long after they returned from Chicago, Mandy called Mickey to tell him that Terry had been convicted of attempted murder and sentenced to 20 years minimum. Ian saw a change in Mickey, watching the burden lift off his shoulders. Six months later they returned to Chicago so Mickey could face his Dad. Ian had the memory cemented into his brain forever. Mickey wanted to ‘come out’ to his Dad, to face him man to man and own who he was. Terry went fucking nuts - as expected - and was hauled away by the guards, but Mickey left that prison a free man in every sense of the word.

Ian turns a few more pages until he settles on Matt and Jonathon’s wedding photos. They had tied the knot as soon as they legalised same sex marriage. It was a small wedding, but very emotional. He knew it was something he wanted with Mickey once they were on their feet and settled. In the back of his mind, he was thinking of proposing as soon as he finished med school. He didn’t want to wait until he finished his residency—that would be too long.

He closes the photobook and finishes his lukewarm coffee. His Mom’s face flashes before his eyes, as unwanted as it is welcome. Monica was dead and she would never see him marry Mick or have a family of his own. It has been two years now, but he still misses her. So stupid to miss someone you hardly ever saw. And yet he does. He’d lost his shit after she died and without Mickey to help him through, he would have stopped taking his meds. When he missed doses, Mickey noticed straight away and hauled him into the doctor’s office. Mickey doesn’t let him get away with shit regarding his mental health and he loves him for it. Mickey protects him and looks after him in a way no one has ever done before. 

He feels a flutter of excitement in his stomach, wondering what Mickey has painted for him. There are eight paintings in the series and that’s all he knows.

*

A few hours later they arrive at the gallery and Mickey is swamped by his fans and snobby art suck-ups. Ian has no time for the sycophants, but it’s part of the art world and Mickey has learnt how to handle them well. If only men would stop hitting on his boyfriend, he would be happier. He’s gotten into many scuffles over the years ensuring the assholes keep their greasy hands to themselves. And if he had a dollar for every prick that asked for a threesome, he’d be rich. As if either of them would share, both as possessive and jealous as the other.

Tonight, Mickey basically tells them to fuck off and they enter the gallery hand in hand. Pulling him to the side in the foyer, Mickey smiles sheepishly at him. “There’s eight. One from 2006 and then one for every year until 2013.”

Ian’s jaw drops when he realises what Mickey is saying, they are the years they dreamt of each other. He has painted their dreams. Ian’s heart thuds heavy in his chest.

“Ian, I have to do the opening speech in about fifteen minutes but after that we’ll look at them together okay? There’s more, but I’ll tell you later.”

“Okay babe, do your speech. Go get organised and I’ll wait.”

Mickey heads off to find his publicist and Ian enters the main section of the gallery, his eyes falling on a painting of them in the dugouts at 10 and 12 years of age. He smiles, feeling incredibly sentimental. The painting takes him right back there, the innocence of the moment, and how in awe he was of Mickey who seemed to be so grown up and have his shit together. He moves up closer. He knows he’s supposed to wait for Mickey to look at them, but he can’t stop himself.

While his eyes scan and study the painting—the texture, the use of colour, the light and shadow—he sees writing woven into the dugout bench. It’s small, but it’s there, and hidden within the rendering of the wood. He leans in close so he can make out the words, ‘you are the man’ it says. What the fuck does that mean?

Looking around the room, he spots what he believes is the 2007 painting. It’s them in the abandoned building with his arm draped over Mickey’s shoulder. It was a special moment for Ian because it was the first time he dared to touch Mickey. Weaving through the ever-increasing crowd, he makes his way over and searches the painting. He takes a full minute to find it; it’s written in the wall and it says, ‘of my dreams.’ He laughs, tears welling up in his eyes. Mickey’s the man of his dreams too. It’s beautiful and fun and romantic, and he fucking loves it. 

He looks for the 2008 painting, hoping there’s more. It’s easy to spot—it’s them at the baseball field laying out on the blanket under the stars. Now he knows what he’s looking for, he finds the words faster - ‘I have loved you’—and he’s already scanning the gallery for the next one. It’s them under the L when Mickey gave him the sketch, the same sketch that is now hanging in a frame above their bed. The words are in the sketch within the painting, ‘since I was 12 years old.’ 

He stops to gather his thoughts and remembers what the message says so far, ‘You are the man of my dreams. I have loved you since I was twelve years old.’ As he looks for 2010 the gallery director starts speaking over the microphone. She’s about to introduce Mickey so he can officially open the exhibition. Ian should be up near the podium to listen and watch Mickey. There is a large crowd gathering closer to the podium and he will have to do a lot of pushing to get over there.

Instead he makes his way to the next painting—it’s fucking special because it's them on the boat at the docks when they hugged, and he kissed Mickey’s neck. His heart pounds just with the memory of it. The writing’s engraved into the deck of the boat at their feet, ‘and I promise to love you.’ He’s feeling this sense of urgency and struggling to think straight. 

As he reaches 2011, the crowd claps, and he knows Mickey is about to speak. He’s being a terrible boyfriend and Mickey will probably kick his ass. He figures he better hurry the fuck up and get back over there. The next painting is them under the bleachers; Ian has Mickey pinned under him and they are kissing passionately. He blushes when he remembers them cumming in their pants that time. The words are in the bleachers, ‘until the end of time.’ Ian feels lightheaded. Mickey’s voice is loud over the microphone and he turns to watch him address the crowd as his mind tries to remember the message…

_‘You are the man of my dreams. I have loved you since I was 12 years old and I promise to love you, until the end of time.’_

Mickey, Mickey, Mickey is all he can think. When did he get so fucking romantic? Ian needs to pick up his game. 2012 is them sitting on their beach, Mickey is between his legs as they both look out to sea. Ian feels a tinge of sadness, knowing he was manic at the time but the love between them radiates off the painting. The words are in the sand, as if someone wrote them with a stick and they say, ‘will you.’

The last painting is on the opposite side of the room to the podium, so he can either try and make his way back to Mickey before he finishes speaking or he can make his way to the final painting. He’s come this far so he decides he may as well finish. He’s shaking because he knows what he wants the rest of the sentence to be. It’s the abandoned building with the ‘Ian loves Mickey’ on the wall behind them as they kiss by the fire. It seems to take him minutes to find the words because they are painted as flames in the fire and they say, ‘marry me?’

Ian’s eyes fill with tears and he turns around, not thinking straight, and shouts across the room, “YES!”

Mickey stops talking and everyone in the crowd turns around to look at him as if he’s crazy. Mickey is looking at him, shocked at what he’s just done. Ian doesn’t care about all the people, it’s just him and Mickey. He smiles, a tear falls, then he yells across the room again, “Of course I’ll marry you!”

Mickey jumps off the podium and starts pushing through the crowd. Ian moves forward too, desperate to get to him. The crowd responds and separates, and then Mickey is in his arms and they are kissing, and the crowd is cheering them on. 

They are both panting when they pull apart and wipe at each other’s tears. Mickey pulls a box out of his pocket and sinks down to one knee. Holy fuck, he’s trembling when Mickey opens the box and reveals the ring. It’s a white gold band with diamonds inlaid around the entire ring, and it’s fucking exquisite. 

Mickey takes a deep breath. “Ian, you kind of jumped ahead of me tonight.”

He mouths, ‘Sorry’ and Mickey smiles at him.

“I’m not sure if I believe in God, but I do believe something brought us together. We were always meant to be. Now I know we don’t need a piece of paper to bind us, but I just _want_ you to be my husband. I want everyone to know how much I fuckin’ love you.”

“I want that too. I promise to love you for forever.” He smiles, then unable to stop himself he teases, “Told you, you were the soft bitch.”

“Fuck off Gallagher and kiss me.”

“He pulls Mickey up and into his arms, kissing him with everything he’s got. When Mickey slides the ring on his finger he whispers suggestively in his ear, “Need to take you home right now baby.”

Mickey takes his hand and leads them out the door.

*

They were practically dry humping in the back of the cab and now they are ripping each other’s clothes off as they move across the loft towards their bed—expensive suits be damned.

“Fuck Mickey, I love you so much. I had no idea, you completely surprised me,” he pants between kisses.

“Stop talking and fuck me…fiancé.”

“Jesus Mick, I’m trying.” He pushes Mickey back onto the bed and crawls on top of him, his cock leaking and throbbing. Ian doesn’t want to separate their lips, but he has to, to get the lube. Reaching out to the nightstand, he grabs it, drops it in his frantic state and gets it on the second try. “Mickey the paintings were incredible. Can you please paint one of me fucking you?”

Mickey spreads his legs and chuckles at him, “Consider it your wedding gift.”

They already had sex that morning, so Ian lubes his fingers and sinks three fingers in slowly, causing Mickey to arch off the bed and moan loudly. He stretches Mickey fast as he licks and sucks at his fiancé’s cock. 

“Fuck Ian, get in me before I cum,” Mickey demands, voice thick with need.

Ian pulls his fingers out and lubes his cock, Mickey knocking him on his back and straddling him before he could register what was happening.

“Mickeeey, oh baby,” he moans as his fiancé’s ass swallows his cock fast. He barely has time to breathe before Mickey starts bouncing up and down, his head thrown back and eyes closed.

Ian rubs his hands up and down Mickey’s thighs, thumbs squeezing into his flesh, as he watches his soon to be husband take what he wants. With every bounce he struggles to stay in control, wanting nothing more than to cum inside his fiancé.

When Mickey slows his hips to a roll, he is almost relieved as he eases off his orgasm, able to last a little longer. Mickey leans forward and kisses him slow, all tongues and soft lips. His cock slips out and he takes the opportunity to roll them, so he is on top. Sitting up onto his knees, he lifts one of Mickey’s legs over his shoulder and pushes back in. 

Mickey bites down on his bottom lip, like he does every single time Ian enters him, and that’s enough for Ian to start pounding him into the mattress. 

“You fuck me so good babe,” Mickey says, grabbing his own cock.

It spurs him on, and he increases his speed, Mickey squeezing around his cock as they tumble towards the finish line. “Your husband’s always gonna take care of you. Eat you out, suck you off and fuck you til you see stars,” he vows.

“Fuck, fuck fuck!” Mickey screams as Ian hits his prostate over and over again, hard and fast.

They both explode at the same time. Mickey’s ass pulses around his cock, and he stills his hips; shooting his cum deep inside as the pleasure overtakes him. As always, he sees flashes of their dreams from both the past and those which he is yet to have in the future. He knows Mickey is experiencing this too, and it intensifies their orgasm’s and their bond. It’s like their two souls entwine in that moment, and then reluctantly separate as their orgasm’s fade. It’s fucking magic, every single time.

*

Later that night they take a bath together, bubbles and candles, the whole nine yards. It’s not everyday that you get engaged. Ian can’t stop playing with his ring, touching it, circling it and looking at it. He wants to get one for Mickey so they both have one. 

Mickey is between his legs and laying back on his chest. The flicker of the candlelight and the warm water is making him sleepy. Mickey is stroking him gently, fingers lightly running up his leg and then across the back of his hand.

“I can’t believe I didn’t have a future dream about this,” he murmurs, his eyes falling closed.

“ _I_ did.”

Ian’s eyes snap open, instantly alert. “What? You didn’t tell me.”

“Of course I didn’t tell you. It would have spoiled it.”

“When?” he asks.

Mickey moves so he can tilt his head and look at Ian. “A week after we met.”

Ian doesn’t know what to do with that. They both dream of their future from time to time, but they never have the same dreams. They don’t know why this happens, but they always tell each other so they can use the information to guide their future. Mickey had chosen to keep his dream secret for six years so it wouldn’t spoil their engagement night for him. 

“It was perfect,” he says, then places a gentle kiss on Mickey’s lips, “I’ll remember tonight for the rest of my life. I love you baby.”

Mickey smiles at him, “Love you too.”

*

**_Ian is standing in the most stunning garden he’s ever seen, flowers of every colour surrounding him. There are people in chairs—their families and friends—and there is Mickey, walking towards him in a white suit. He’s smiling while tears fall down his cheeks. He’s beautiful, Ian thinks as his eyes gaze over the man he loves._ **

**_Ian can’t imagine anything more perfect as Mickey reaches him and they join hands, blue eyes on green and green on blue, connected by something only they can see and feel. He has time to mouth, ‘I love you’ before he hears, “We are gathered here today.”_ **

When Ian awakens the next morning, he smiles into Mickey’s neck and thinks, thank god I only have to wait two years.

**_ EPILOGUE… _ **

**__ **

**_ July 21st, 2028 _ **

Dear fucking diary, how are you doing after all these years? Fuck, I haven’t written in here since the day I met Ian and I just spent the last few hours reading it. My thought processes as a kid were insane! I laughed and cried but I was mostly fucking embarrassed. Yeah, sitting here reading it I got so embarrassed for myself. Jesus, wish I could go back in time and tell myself it’s okay to be gay. Nowadays, Ian and I go to pride parades and we do charity work for vulnerable LGBT+ youth and are just so ‘out’ in everything we do. Maybe I should rewind and catch you up…

I’m 34 now, Ian’s 32 and we got married seven years ago. Our first child is due in a month and we both know we will name her Lily. We didn’t bother finding out the sex because we both know. Just like we know we will have a boy named Oliver in about 11 years’ time. When we dream of the future only one of us has that dream and we’ve never been able to figure out why. We still dream together sometimes but not as much—it seems like the longer we are together the less frequent the dreams are. We have a theory that if we were separated, the dreams would increase again, but neither of us wants to test the theory.

Ian went to med school in New York and then did his residency there too. He’s been a doctor for 3 years now and he’s going to set up a private practice soon. He wants to be an old-fashioned family doctor, and I love that for him. I can just imagine all the moms lining up to see Dr. Gallagher cos he gets fucking hotter every year. (Fuck yes, you were right about the beard!) I will stay home with Lily when she’s little; I can paint while she sleeps, and I only do a few paintings a year now to ensure my work remains in demand and at the highest price.

I stumbled upon this diary when I was packing boxes. We’re moving out of the city next week to a family friendly town in Connecticut. It’s the house you wrote about in 2013. In fact, that’s how I knew it was the one to buy. We’d seen about 10 properties and none seemed right, then I walked in the door and the dream came back to me. I just knew it was the same house even though it was empty. We bought it that same day.

Mandy is the manager of a big event company and she’s married to a great guy named Tom. They have two kids—a boy who’s 6 and a girl who just turned 3. Ian and Mandy are best friends. I still see Eden all the time. Her family never accepted her, but she’s been living with her girlfriend Josie for eight years. They don’t plan on getting married or having kids. They have a graphic design company and it’s like their baby.

Betty turned 70 this year and I worry about her on her own. She still comes and spends every Easter with us, and we spend Thanksgiving with her in Chicago. Betty’s been like a mom to both me and Ian, and we love her more than words can say. She cried at our wedding, and fuck, I still can’t talk about what she’s given me, given us, without tearing up. I owe her everything and I will make sure she’s taken care of in her old age.

We stay in contact with Matt and Jonathon but rarely see them. They attended our wedding, and I laughed when Matt pulled me aside and said, ‘I told you back in high school that he loved you.’ If only he knew the truth! He still teaches art at high school, and I know the students are fucking lucky to have him. 

For me, I hit the jackpot. My agent managed my career to perfection—making sure I didn’t over produce in order to elevate the price of my work. Bottom line, we’re fucking rich and in the art world I’m famous. Ian doesn’t need to work a day in his life if he doesn’t want to. Fuck, I could paint one painting a year and we’d be fine. I got a financial advisor straight out of college and we didn’t waste our money on bullshit. Now we’re set for life. 

Our wedding was perfect—simple and elegant—in a beautiful garden with our family and close friends only. It felt good to stand up in front of people and declare my love for Ian. So I guess what I’m saying is—one day you’ll be free of shame and hurt and anger—and just free to be who you are! To love Ian openly and proudly, unlike when you were a kid and had to do it in secret. 

On the day we got engaged, Ian requested a painting of us fucking. I promised him I would do it for our wedding, and I did. I created a series of three paintings that now hang in our bedroom. One is of me riding him, one is of him fucking me from behind over the dining table and one is of us making love in missionary. We’re gay men - so what can I say - we love to fuck. But we’re also just two regular people who love each other deeply, so the painting of us making love is my favourite. And Ian’s too. 

I still love it when we dream together and get to wake up in each other’s arms. I don’t take that shit for granted. He’s my everything. He’s my soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * THANK YOU to everyone who has left Kudos and Comments! So many hours go into writing (or maybe I'm just slow) and it's nice to feel appreciated. I only started writing in January of this year - never written anything before other than academic essays - and I feel like I might have finally started to improve. I hope so!! I dreamt this story and just had to write it and I love it. (Hopefully I don't sound like an arrogant douche - I guess I just mean that a big part of this story is about learning to accept yourself, losing the shame, then harnessing all of yourself and throwing it into your art. Because that's what makes great art. So writing this one was more personal for me.)
> 
> ** Please please leave a final comment and Kudos if you haven't already or if you enjoyed reading it.
> 
> ** I've got a one shot coming out sometime next week called 'The Bet' and I'm super excited about it!! It's set post season 10 and it's going to put a smile on your face (I hope) because it's domestic, sexy, bickering husbands. Please consider becoming a 'user subscriber' as I have new works planned after I finish Dance Partners.
> 
> ** Speaking of Dance Partners - chapter 22 is looking long so may be next weekend. Then chapter 23 and 24 will be posted together approx 7-10 days after that. So complete in next 2- 3 weeks.
> 
> Take care and stay safe!!  
> Rachael x


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